Silver Eyes
by K-yers
Summary: Tay Jennings has always been able to communicate with the deceased, but she puts an end to it when it causes a rift in her family. But when she moves into the Murder House, things take a turn for the worse. And when the spirits of the house are convinced that Tay can save them, she may not have the strength to survive. OC
1. 1: Haunted

**A/N: Hello everyone, and thanks for clicking on "Silver Eyes"! I recently watched American Horror Story and the show HOOKED me. I thought about the show long after I stopped watching and soon the idea for this fanfiction popped up. Though I will give y'all a fair warning: the is the first time I'm going to write a suspenseful story and I'm kind of going with the flow here. But who knows where this story will end up, maybe it'll be awesome. Okay, I think I've held y'all up by chatting to much. So sit back, grab a snack, and I hope you enjoy "Silver Eyes" :)**

* * *

I've been able to see dead people for as long as I can remember. To me, they look just like normal people. Alive people, that is. I've had conversations with lots of them. But I never go out and find them; they find me. Mostly they tell me about how they died; which, according to them, isn't gruesome enough for young children to hear.

I think the first one I met was when I was four. I was in preschool on the playground, when I saw a man in a military uniform standing nearby. At first, I was confused. No one else was paying him any mind. They were out right ignoring him! My four year old mind couldn't grasp the concept that no one else could see him.

I ended up walking up to him to ask him what he was doing. At first, he kept blinking at me and gasping, "You can see me?" No matter how many times I said yes, he still seemed shocked. But in the end he told me that he wanted to see his daughter, a girl in my class named Briana. He wanted me to let her know that he loved her, and that he would always be there for her. So I did just that.

Unfortunately, Briana thought I was making fun of her. She screamed at me about how her dad had been in the army and how he died fighting. It had landed a very confused me in a conference between my teacher and my dad. Afterwards, I had to apologize to Briana and her mother. And my dad kept telling me over and over how disappointed he was. That was the worst part of the day.

Over the years, several ghosts found me to tell me about themselves. I don't remember all of them, just the ones that stood out. There was a man in a white suit who told me about his long lost love. An old, weepy woman once told me how much she hated being without her husband, who had died earlier, but she couldn't find him. And then, when I was ten, there was a group of teenagers with massive bullet wounds who told me that they were looking for their killer. I had wished them luck and they were on their way. I actually liked talking to all of them; at least I did, until I turned twelve.

I was talking to a beautiful woman with dark hair. I don't remember what we were talking about, but I guess it doesn't matter now. Then my dad walked in.

"Taylor! What are you doing?" He asked, his voice rising to an unnatural high pitch.

"I was just talking to," I started but turned back to the woman. "What was your name again?"

"Lucia,"

"Okay, Lucia then," I replied, looking back at Dad. His lips were a thin line on his face.

"Taylor," He said after a moment of silence. "There is no one there."

I had frowned at him. "Yes there is. "Can't you see her?" Lucia waved at him. Dad shook his head.

"No, Taylor. There is _no one _there! You are too old for imaginary friends! Now I've dealt with this for too long now. No more of this 'talking' to these imaginary people!"

"They're not made up!" I had yelled. I could feel the tears sting at my eyes, but I tried to hide them. Dad _hated_ it when I cried.

But he saw. "First imaginary friends, now _this_? It's about time you grew up!"

The tears had been falling freely now. "And what if I don't want to?" Lucia tried to dab away my tears.

Dad's eyes widened and he stooped down to my level. "Then you can go ahead and leave this house. Otherwise get your act together, and stop being such a freak."

Freak. I've heard that word before from girls in school and from my stepmother and my stepsister. But not from my dad. That hurt too much. So after Lucia left, I swore off speaking to any other ghost. But because I couldn't tell the difference between the living and the dead, I started avoiding anyone new who came up to me. This made making friends almost impossible.

And now, five years later, Dad was making us move cross-country for his job.

* * *

The house was huge. It towered over me and I assumed it was three stories high. Beside me, my twin sister stared at it with judging eyes.

"It looks like those houses from the horror films," She said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes at her; according to her, all horror movies had wild sex in it.

"Yeah," I said sarcastically. "From those corny and cheesy horror movies."

Tess shrugged but dropped the subject. My sister and I were as different as night and day. Sure we had the same facial features, except our eyes; hers were hazel and mine were an odd icy silver. She was popular, athletic, and charming enough to make everyone around her like her. I, on the other hand, was very clumsy, an outcast, and awkward around others. The only people I've ever been able to talk properly to was all the ghosts I've met. But there was one thing my sister and I agreed on.

Our stepmother was a certified bitch.

Yes she was gorgeous and rich and seemingly perfect, but that woman was just plain evil. She hated both me and Tess, while she treated her own brat of a daughter like royalty. I despised both of them with a passion.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Hannah appeared, staring at the new house with distaste gleaming in her eyes. "I don't like it," She said. She always seemed to think that if she announced that she didn't like something, then everyone around her would break their backs to try and please her.

"Honestly, Hannah," Tess said sharply. "No one cares if _you _don't like it." She narrowed her hazel eyes at the house. "But I must admit, it does _feel _creepy."

I knew what Tess meant; the house just screamed _"Stay away"_ it would seem. But something about it just made me want to go inside, to explore it.

"I think it's cool," I said. "Creepy, yes. Dark and depressing, yes, very much so. But it's got something about it that I like."

"Figures _you _would like it," Hannah muttered but I ignored her. I stared at the windows, as if in a trance. There was something about this house that was pulling me towards it like a magnet.

All of a sudden there was a flicker of movement in one of the windows. I whipped my vision to it, but whatever caused it was gone by the time I located the drapes fluttering. I glanced over my shoulder; the moving men were still unloading the truck. There was no reason for anyone to be in there yet. But I was pulled from my thoughts as a cherry red convertible pulled into the driveway.

Great, I thought bitterly, cue the evil stepmother.

Joan Mayer stepped from her car and surveyed the house. Her bright brown eyes were gleaming; that meant she like what she saw. I never really saw that look. But she had that strange look as she looked at the house. It was weird.

"It looks better than it did online!" Joan exclaimed to our relator. "I hope the inside is just as beautiful as it is out here." She walked off with the relator trailing after her. Dad wasn't here; he was working. So Joan was in charge of everything.

"How many bedrooms are there?" Joan asked. The relator jumped in fright from being addressed directly to. What was with her?

"Uh, there are five bedrooms and four baths." Joan let out a small noise of delight. I didn't know why; this house was smaller than the one she was coming from.

"Hannah, dear," Joan called over her pride and joy. She completely ignored the two teenage girls standing a little ways away. "Go pick out whichever room you want." Hannah flounced off and Joan turned to us. "You two can go pick out your rooms. But Hannah gets first choice."

Tess grabbed my arm and squeezed excitedly. "C'mon Tay, let's go find some good rooms before the brat gets it." I nodded, despite the forbidding feeling I was getting from this house. And without another word, we entered the unreasonably large house.


	2. 2: Neighbors

My breath was taken away upon entering the house. It was beautiful! The wood that framed the main hall was a dark, deep brown color and the windows was stained glass and it vaguely reminded me of butterfly wings.

"Wow," Tess breathed. Her hazel eyes were as wide as saucers. "I could get used to living here."

Tess disappeared up the stairs but I wanted to explore the first floor first. I strolled around into a formal dining room, where a large mahogany dining room table stood with matching chairs. A wide and bright crystal chandelier hung gracefully overhead. I was still blinking from it when I entered the kitchen. I froze and smiled greatly at the wiped down and polished area. It looked like all the appliances were state-of-the-art. Maybe I could finally get around to baking some cookies like I meant to. After touching everything in that room to prove that this wasn't a dream, I turned and continued exploring. A spare bedroom was a little off the kitchen. This was nice, I thought. The room was large and it had a window seat that stared at a gazebo in the backyard. I spent a little time in here before moving on. The living room was impressive, but before I could get the full gist of it, the moving men kicked me out to put down furniture. So I ducked out of there and into another room with a large fireplace and shelves all over the walls. I had a feeling I had found a home for my books.

I was about to head upstairs when the sound of a door snapping shut made me peer around the corner. As I looked closer, I noticed a door tucked under the stairs. This must be the full basement the realtor told us about. I walked up to it and grabbed on to the handle and pulled.

But nothing happened.

That's weird, I thought, the realtor didn't mention anything about the basement having a lock. So either the door was jammed or…someone was holding it firm from the other side.

Whoa, calm down Tay, I thought bracingly, stop making mountains out of molehills. There wasn't anyone in the basement; my wild imagination was just taking off. However, I didn't manage to convince myself that the door was jammed.

After I climbed the stairs, sounds of yelling floated down the hall to my ears. I followed the noise to one of the bedrooms. The walls were painted purple and Tess and Hannah stood in the middle of it, screaming at each other.

"Hey!" I had to yell at the top of my lungs to make myself heard. "What's up with all the noise?"

"This is _my _room!" Hannah shouted. "I get first pick, so it's mine!"

"Oh please!" Tess said, rolling her eyes. "You already called the other room down the hall. You can't have it all, you know!"

They started yelling at each other again. I watched for a moment before stopping them. "You know, there is a pretty big room downstairs. It's right next to the kitchen."

Hannah disappeared. Tess gave me an approving nod. "Is there really a bedroom downstairs?"

"Yeah," I said. "Truth is, I was planning on that room for myself, but Joan would rip your face off if she got wind of you harassing her angel." I added a bit of phlegm to the last word. Tess laughed.

"Well since you helped to get my room, let's go get yours."

The first of the two rooms was smaller than Tess and Hannah's rooms. It had a large window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The second room was more appealing; it was the same size as Hannah's room and it had a window seat that overlooked the gazebo.

"I think this is it," I said. Tess smiled and nodded.

We spent the rest of the morning directing where boxes should go. Finally, after the boxes were all in their proper place and the moving men left, Joan announced that she was leaving to go get pizza for lunch. Hannah went with her. The house got really, really quiet and I could hear creaks around the house. They sounded like someone was walking around, but I quickly dismissed the thought. But my suspicions flew back to the surface when a scream pierced the air like a knife.

I ran into the kitchen, where the scream had come from. I paused and took in the scene. Tess had her back to me, and from what I could tell, she was wielding a steak knife. Facing her on the other side of the counter was a boy I've never seen before.

He was a grungy-looking boy with a mop of dirty blond hair that looked slightly greasy. His skin was pale and he had large bags under his dark brown, almost black eyes. Under any other circumstances, he would have looked tired. But right now alarm was sparkling in his super dark eyes, and his hands were raised in a gesture of surrender.

"What the hell?" I asked. "Tess, why are you pointing a knife at this guy?"

"Because he broke in, that's why!" Tess snarled. The boy's face melted into pleasant surprise.

"I didn't break in," He said calmly. "Your back door was open. I just thought I'd come in and say," He paused for a second. "Hi,"

"Okay, hello," I said. "Now Tess, put the knife down." Tess hesitated, but lowered the knife back on to the counter. The boy gave a closed smile.

"Thanks for that," He paused, squinting his eyes at me. I realized he wanted a name. Good Lord, Tay, I thought, stop staring!

"Tay Jennings," I said. He leaned forward with his hand extended. I reached out as well and we shook hands. His hand was warm and I felt a blush creep up my neck. I prayed he wouldn't notice. But then he smirked while staring at my now ruddy face.

Crap.

"And you are?" Tess asked rudely. The boy tore his amused eyes from my awkward blush to Tess's suspicious face.

"Ta_t_e," He said, clicking his tongue to put emphasis on the second t. He smirked and let out a huff of laughter. "We're all T's."

There was a very awkward pause. Tess was glaring at Tate, Tate was glancing between the two of us with amusement etched on his face, and I was trying and failing to get the damn blush off my face.

"Soo," Tate said slowly. "Where are you ladies from?"

"Florida," I said, finally finding my voice again. "Our dad got transferred here for work."

Tate nodded and before he could say anything else, Joan's voice called from the foyer. Tess led the way out, probably because she didn't like Tate. I followed and could feel Tate's presence behind me.

Joan was standing in the doorway with two boxes of pizza in her arms. Hannah was nowhere to be seen. But Joan wasn't alone in the doorway. An old woman with blond hair that clearly came from a bottle was standing with her with a liter of Diet Coke in her hands. Tate stiffened behind me.

"And here are my _step_daughters," Joan said. I hated the way she added emphasis on the word step. "Tess and Taylor,"

"It's Tay," I said dryly. Joan rolled her eyes and the woman with her just nodded curtly.

"My name is Constance," She said, her voice sounded ragged. "I live next door."

Maybe she knew Tate. But when I opened my mouth to ask, Joan shoved the pizza boxes into my hands and Constance did the same with the Coke. Never mind then, bitch. I headed back for the kitchen and Tate, after watching me through narrowed eyes for a moment, followed.

"So why do you let her treat you like that?" Tate asked. At first I was tempted to tell him to shove off, but there was a look of genuine curiosity in his eyes. I sighed.

"What else can I do? She's my stepmom; if I piss her off I might end up sleeping in the basement."

Tate frowned at my statement and looked like he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. That is until: "What school are you going to?"

"Um," I combed through my memory for a second. "Westfield, why? Do you go there?"

Tate's face darkened as if a shadow passed over it. Then it passed. "Nah, I mean I used to. But high school sucks. So I left and I never looked back."

I sighed. "Too bad. It would've been nice knowing at least one person there."

Tate looked guilty for a second. But then he smiled slightly and sighed. "I'm sure it won't suck for you."

I smiled back at him. Even though he was a little weird and creepy, Tate seemed nice. It was a pity though, seeing as I wouldn't know anyone in school.


	3. 3: The Murder House

Tess, Hannah, and I all started school the next day. I was the first to wake up and I took a shower in the bathroom that was connected to my room. But the entire time I was showering, I felt as though someone was watching me. Goosebumps prickled on my bare arms and I felt like one of those animals that are always hunted. Like a mouse before the owl swoops in.

The feeling passed though, right before I stepped out. But I was still paranoid, so I didn't waste any time getting dressed into jeans and one of the few nice shirts I own. I told myself countless times as I was scrunching my hair that I was overreacting.

Returning into my room, I slipped into mismatched socks and laced up my converse while butterflies erupted in my stomach. The school year was already two months in; everybody already knew each other and knew where they stood with each other. In elementary school, new kids were always the most popular person around while they decided who they wanted to be friends with. But in high school, it meant you were an instant outcast.

The hallway was almost too dark to believe. Several times I was convinced that there was someone else there, but I blamed my eyes on playing tricks on me. I made it to the kitchen for breakfast, to find a very old woman with vivid red hair, even though it was graying. I let out a yelp. The old woman jumped too.

"I apologize if I've frightened you, Miss Taylor," She faced me and I saw that her right eye was milky gray with blindness. "I thought your mother would've told you that she hired me."

"She's not my mother," I mumbled. The woman looked embarrassed and apologized again.

"I'm sorry, madam. I have made you breakfast." She gestured behind her to the stove where eggs were cooking and sausage was frying. "And you may call me Moira."

"Nice to meet you, Moira," I said politely. My mouth was watering from the intoxicating aroma that was flooding into my nose. Moira set me up a plate and served it to me in the dining room. I hadn't even taken the first bite when she returned with a tall glass of orange juice. The twinkling chandelier glimmered above me. Tess and Hannah reacted the same as me when they saw Moira, but they were silenced faster with the speedy arrangement of food.

When we finished, Joan drove us to school. Moira waved goodbye from the porch. I waved back until I spotted a familiar, grungy-looking boy with slightly greasy hair standing near the corner of the house. When he smiled and waved, I didn't hesitate to do the same.

* * *

Westfield was smaller than my old school. The day passed by in a blur. There was one point where my AP English class had to go to the library. There was a gold-plated plaque in there, but I didn't get a chance to read it; a few people wouldn't stop talking to me. It was a relief when I got to AP Chemistry, my last class of the day, though a few people tried to talk to me there too.

"So where do you live now, Taylor?" Like my stepmother, this girl refused to call me "Tay".

"I live in the big house on Berro Drive," I replied. Their reactions were not what I was expecting, they all stared at me like I had just told them that I lived in Frankenstein's house.

"You live in the," The cheerleader of the group gulped. "Murder House?"

"Murder House?" I repeated feeling very confused.

"No one told you?" A boy in the group asked. I think his name was Paul.

"Told me what?"

No one answered my question immediately, but a tough-looking girl named Dee answered. "It's obvious isn't it? You'd think the name would give it away."

My mind put the puzzle together and I felt my throat tighten. "You mean someone was _murdered_ in there?"

"Actually, it was loads of someones, wasn't it?" The cheerleader asked. I remembered her name was Kelsie.

"Yeah, everyone who lived in there ended up dead." Dee said with a sly look at me. Gee, thanks.

"I don't remember them all," Paul said. "I just remember the original owners' deaths." He looked to me and leaned in. "Then man who built the house was Charles Montgomery, he was a doctor. He lived there with his wife Nora and their son Thaddeus. You see, Dr. Montgomery liked his drugs and he started losing money due to all of his Frankenstein- like experiments. But Nora wasn't having any of this, so to make money, they started a sort of black market abortion center. Who knows how many girls they got in there? But one patient blabbed to her boyfriend, and he took his revenge by kidnapping baby Thaddeus."

"Nora was beside herself with grief," Dee cut in with a fiendish smile. "That is until one day, when the police were on their doorstep with the remains of Thaddeus in a box!" I was starting to feel sick. "But Dr. Montgomery had an insane idea in his head that he could bring his son back from the dead. So he began surgery."

"What Dr. Montgomery created," Paul snapped, clearly irritated at being interrupted. "Wasn't any _human_ child, though. And Nora went mad at the sight of her son's now mutant body, so she killed the creature, and shot her husband too. Then, after realizing what she did, she put the gun in her mouth, and blew her own brains out."

I stared at them in horror. Most of my brain was telling me that these people were lying, and that they were only making it up to scare me. But a small, forgotten corner of my mind was whispering to me that everything they said was true.

"Wasn't there another family a few years ago?" Kelsie asked.

"Yeah, the What's-Their-Names," Dee said. "I forgot how they died."

"Bottom line, Taylor," Paul said hastily. "Everyone who has lived in that house, ends up dead."

Dee leaned forward. _"Everyone,"_

* * *

I waited for Tess to come out of gym, her last class of the day. I was standing outside when a tidal wave of students came flooding out and I spotted my twin walking with a tall redheaded boy. Seems like Tess made friends. She saw me and said goodbye to him.

"Do you know if Joan is coming to get us today?" She asked. I thought for a second; Joan never said anything about picking us up from school. And it would be so like her to "forget" to drive by the high school for us.

"She'd probably pretend to have forgotten us," I said. The house was just four miles away. It would take a while. "We might as well start walking." And so we did.

As we waited for the crosswalk light to turn, Tess asked, "So how was your first day?" I shrugged.

"It was alright. But a few people told me something about our house." The light signaled for us to start walking as I repeated the story of the Montgomerys and how the What's-Their-Names died a few years ago.

"Well damn," Tess said after I finished. We had started climbing up a steep hill and were soon gasping for air. "That reminds me. I had a dream last night."

"I think you should be worried if you _didn't _have dreams." I panted.

"Tate was in it," Tess said, her voice growing thick. I found myself perking my ears at the sound of Tate's name.

"What was _he_ doing in _your_ dream? I thought you didn't like him."

"Well, it's not like I went to bed planning on dreaming about him! Besides, in the dream, he was scary."

"What did he do?" I was feeling curious now.

Tess topped suddenly, causing me to double take and wait.

"He didn't do much of anything. He just stood there. We were in a dark room and I don't think he knew I was there. He just kept staring at something. But then all the lights went out, and I couldn't see anything. But they turned on again" She paused, swallowed, then continued. "Tate wasn't there anymore, but something else was. It was tall, thin, and it was wearing a full body suit made out of black rubber."

We started walking again before I spoke again. "Sounds like something out of an S&M fantasy. Have you been reading those Fifty Shades books?"

"No!" Tess cried. An elderly lady who was walking past us gave her a curious and nosy look. We waited until she was out of earshot before continuing. "It wasn't like that! That thing—whoever or whatever it was—scared the living shit out of me. And it didn't even do anything; it just stood there, staring at me! It terrified me so bad, I woke right up almost instantly. But even after I woke up, I thought it was still there…"

We didn't speak after that. I tried to visualize what Tess had seen, but every time I tried, I saw a black Slenderman without the suit and tentacles. Tess wouldn't believe the classic "it's just a dream; it's not real" crap, because it had _felt _real to her. When we reached the house, I was already having second thoughts at staying here.


	4. 4: A Warning

Joan stuck to her excuse that she had forgotten about us. Yet she managed to remember to pick up Hannah from the middle school. Whatever; Moira had baked homemade peanut butter cookies and had saved a mountain for me and Tess. Homework was just definitions for history.

I sat in the kitchen to do homework, and at some point a pretty redheaded woman walked in. I eyed her curiously as she gave me uneasy glances.

"Who are you?" I asked. The woman flinched and stared at me in surprise.

She bounced back from her shock and replied, "Vivien Harmon; do you know where Moira is? I need help with—" She cut off, looking nervous.

"Sorry, I don't know. She left to go clean upstairs, I think." I replied. Vivien gave me a thankful smile and left.

Well that was odd.

I finished homework and packed my things to go to my room. After dumping them on to my bed, I left to go see if Vivien found Moira. I had only stepped outside of my room when voices floated down the hall and into my ears.

"There was no way she could've seen me, but she did!"

"Nonsense, you must've been doing it wrong."

I knocked on the door Moira and Vivien were in and made my presence known. Both of their faces looked startled. "Hi there, I just wanted to make sure Vivien found you." I nodded to her and she hesitated but nodded back. I left, wondering why the two of them were so confused.

* * *

Dad was working again tonight. I had survived my first week of Westfield and Kelsie, Dee, and Paul were easily my closest companions there. Even though I'm pretty sure Dee was counting the days until I dropped dead.

Joan was hanging out at Constance's house and Hannah was spending the night at a new friend's house. Tess was already asleep, despite the time only being six o'clock. She had been having that same nightmare every night this week. It had gotten so bad she had started checking corners of the house with a hand mirror. She was _terrified_ of this "Rubberman", as she had started calling him this. The only reason she was sleeping was because I had crushed sleeping pills in her drink at dinner tonight. Hopefully, she wouldn't have that damned nightmare again.

I was reading in the library when the doorbell broke the silence like a cannon boom. I marked my spot and got up to see who it was. I peered through the peephole; a girl about my age with long, blond hair parted down the middle was standing there. I opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Violet Harmon. I live down the street."

"Hey there, Violet," I said gesturing for her to enter. "Your mom is Vivien, right?"

"Yeah," Violet said. "I heard you met her." There was an awkward silence. Violet looked like she wanted to say something badly, but couldn't.

"Do you want something to drink?" I offered slowly, trying hard to break the awkwardness. "We have some iced tea that Moira, the maid, made. It's actually really good, I don't even like iced—"

"Have you met Tate yet?" Violet blurted out. She looked surprised at herself.

"Yeah, I have," I said, not sure where this was going. Violet looked like she wanted me to say something else about Tate. "He seems…nice?"

"He is most certainly not _nice_!" Violet said, sounding shocked that I would even suggest a thing. "Listen, this is important, Tate is dangerous. He may come off as charming, charismatic, and cute, but he's just _evil_."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, Tess's dream coming to mind. That's two people telling me that Tate was bad news. What gives?

"You wouldn't want to know," Violet said hastily.

"Well that's an awfully big thing to say about someone without any proof." I said. "Besides I've only spoken to him once."

"You don't know him," Violet said. "Look, you don't have to take my advice. But just keep in mind that he's not the person he sets himself up to be. I've got to go, see ya."

Violet left me standing there staring after her. Confused, I headed upstairs to my bedroom. After turning on the light and sitting down on the bed, I got that hunted feeling again. I glanced around; no one was in here.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

I jumped up at the consistent tapping coming from the window beside my bed. The curtains were drawn so I couldn't see what it was. All I knew was that there weren't any trees beside my window.

I grabbed a handful of the curtains and yanked them off their hinges. I shouted with surprise as a familiar pair of super dark eyes widened in surprise.

* * *

**A/N: Hm, this is a pretty short chapter...I'll go ahead and post the next one then. Hope everyone is enjoying this story! :)**


	5. 5: Closer

"Tate!" I hissed before opening the window for him. He was chuckling.

"I scared you,"

"Yeah you did, you jerk." I slapped him on the arm and he gave me a look of mock sadness.

"Aw, and I thought we were becoming such good friends here, Tay." He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. I just shook my head and tried not to laugh so much.

"Nice room," Tate said, taking a long look at the room. "Love what you've done with the place." I frowned; there were empty boxes thrown everywhere. Tate read my mind. "Still looks nice,"

Tate started walking around and touching everything. I followed to make sure he didn't see anything he wasn't supposed to.

"So how'd you enjoy the hell that is high school?" Tate asked, opening my junk drawer and shifting through the untidiness.

"It was fine," I said, pulling his hand out gently and closing the drawer. He moved away from me to flip through my books.

"That's good, but trust me; it'll eventually start to suck." He paused to read the back of a book. "Can I borrow this?" I looked at the book he was holding out; _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.

"Sure, yeah, whatever," I said; Tate pocketed the book. He continued his ransack of my room.

"And when you do realize that it sucks," He continued, stopping to sniff at a bottle of my perfume. "You'll become a high school dropout, like me." The bottle sprayed and hit him full in the face. Tate gagged and made a face. I laughed.

"Well, Mr. Dropout, since you seem to be the voice of reason around here," I said. "Why did high school suck for you?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask!" Tate exclaimed. He threw himself onto my bed; the mattress groaned in response. Lying on his back he started waving his hands around when he spoke. "Everything and everyone; teachers don't care if you pass or fail. They just use that bullshit routine to make you feel better if you fail something. And the other students, if they even assume that you're different, that you're special," He made a whooshing noise. "Off to Social-Siberia for you!"

I watched him from the corner of my bed, lost in thought. Why did Violet think he was dangerous, evil even? He seemed fine to me; creepy and out-there, but otherwise…sweet.

"I know how that feels," I whispered, mostly to myself. Tate looked up at me and sat up, his dark eyes concerned. "I never got the hang of making friends. Not just at school; everywhere. Tess, she already has a swarm of people following her around. I've never really had…anyone." I chewed on the inside of my mouth, thinking. Tate blinked.

"You got me now," Tate was suddenly standing in front of me. I stared up at him, still sitting. Tate grabbed me by the elbows and pulled me up so that I was standing. I could tell where Tate wanted this to go. But the last time I had made out with someone was Ted Burrows and I had cut my tongue on his new braces. Blood and saliva had dripped down my chin and Ted had run away. It had been a very embarrassing visit to the nurse's office.

Wait, why was I thinking about this? Tate didn't have braces. He was getting really close; his chest was a fraction of an inch away from my front.

From downstairs the front door slammed shut.

I snapped out of my daze and placed a hand on Tate's chest. He stopped and blinked.

"Tate, you gotta get out of here." I said, edging around him to the window. As I opened it, Tate appeared at my side.

"Why?"

I could see the black SVU that was my dad's car. "Because if my dad catches in here, I might as well mount my head on a wall. Now go!"

Tate hauled himself halfway out the window. "Wait, so I can borrow the book?"

"Yes! Now go on; I'll see you tomorrow!"

Tate wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh really, the gazebo then?"

"Tay, Are you still awake?"

I gritted my teeth. "Okay! Now get _out_!" I shoved him the rest of the way. Tate just laughed merrily and started climbing down. I had just closed the window when Dad walked in the door.

"Why are you at the window?" Dad asked, peering behind me at the window.

"Thought I saw something," I said hastily. I walked a little away from it and tucked my hair behind my ear. Dad nodded and looked like he was going to drop it, but then his eyes narrowed.

"Are you feeling alright, Tay? Your face is flushed."

Damn my noticeable blush. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just hot in this room, that's all."

"Okay, well goodnight." He left.

I let out a huge breath and collapsed into my bed. There was a moment of silence before a tap sounded on the window overlooking the gazebo. I got up and looked out.

Tate was standing there in front of the gazebo. He pointed to me, then to himself, then to the gazebo behind him. He held up two fingers before running off. The message he was trying to get across was simple.

You. Me. Gazebo. Two o'clock.


	6. 6: Twenty Questions

Tate was already at the gazebo when I got there. He had my book with him.

"Hello Tay," Tate cheerfully. He held up the book. "I got to chapter six already. Someone needs to whip those Dursleys into place."

"Have you ever read Harry Potter?" I asked, finding it hard to believe that someone could be that _oblivious_.

But Tate shook his head and his dirty blond hair flopped about lazily. "Nope,"

"Have you been living under a rock? I mean, it's one of the most famous series ever."

Tate shrugged. "Must be, because I've never read the books or seen the movies. But I have heard of them; like I know Dumbledore dies."

I laughed. "Yeah, 'cause that's the whole gist of the story, when Dumbledore dies."

There was a pause, but for whatever reason it wasn't awkward. This was surprising to me; Tate was the first boy I've ever comfortable around.

"So Tay," Tate said. "Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything: dreams, fears, like, the whole nine yards."

"Um, I don't know where to start," I said, feeling really stupid. Tate clicked his tongue at me.

"That's no excuse," His almost black eyes were burning into mine. "How about we play twenty questions?"

"Sure, you go then I'll go," I said, feeling apprehensive already. Usually these games wound up with really perverted questions.

"Okey dokey," Tate rolled his eyes up in thoughtfulness. "Birthday?"

"November thirtieth," I replied, taking a seat on the bench across from Tate.

"Your turn," Tate rested his head in his hands.

I thought for a second before coming up with nothing. "Uh, your birthday?"

Tate laughed. "Being uncreative, are we? Ah, January fifteenth. Favorite color; and no stealing my question this time!"

"Purple," I answered. What else could I ask? "Favorite…book?"

"So far," Tate held up _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. "Now what's _your_ favorite book?"

"I thought you said no stealing questions!"

"I said _you _can't steal _my _questions. Now answer!"

I thought for a second. _"Game of Thrones!"_ Tate laughed.

"I think I've heard of that one; something about it being medieval porn."

"Well, I skipped the porn parts." I said. Tate smirked. The questions continued until we almost ran out of favorite things to talk about ("Favorite…tree?"). That is until Tate turned a faint shade of scarlet before asking: "How many boyfriends have you had?"

I sputtered and looked at him. "Why do you want to know?"

Tate turned even redder and shrugged. "Curiosity. Now I get two questions, so answer the first one."

Now it was my turn to blush. "In all honesty, no one. I got close to one, but turns out he had a bet with his friends to see if he could get into my pants."

Tate looked pissed. His dark eyes flashed dangerously and he was shaking.

"Tate, calm down," I said quickly. Tate physically deflated after I said his name.

"Sorry, what question were we on?"

"Including that one, we both have two left."

"Okay then," Tate hesitated then said, "You go first."

"Um, okay, how do you know Violet?"

Tate's reaction was startling. His face turned white and his eyes widened so I could see the whites of his eyes. "Who?"

I hesitated. "Um, Violet Harmon. She came up to me the other day telling me that you were dangerous and," I paused, not knowing if I should continue. "And evil,"

Tate looked angry. "And you believe her?"

I spread my arms. "Would I be here if I did?"

Tate stared, still looked angry. But my answer must've pleased him, because he nodded with his jaw tight. "Yeah, I know her. I used to go out with her, but she—" He cut off.

I nodded, not needing him to continue. A twinge of jealousy pricked at my insides. Judging by Tate's reaction, they broke up fairly recently.

"Forget that I asked, Tate," I said nervously. Tate shook his head.

"No don't apologize. You would've found out sooner or later." Tate wiped his face of emotion and leaned forward. "Now time for my last question. Do you believe in ghosts?"

I didn't answer right away. Did he know about what I could do? How would he? No one outside my family knew. So I answered truthfully. "Yes,"

"You know they say your house is haunted?" Tate asked, his voice rising excitedly.

I nodded. "I've heard there are several."

"What would you think if you saw one?" Tate asked slowly.

I looked him full in the face. "I think that would be awesome."


	7. 7: Rubberman

Halloween was in a few weeks. Joan had taken it upon herself to hire people to decorate the house. The results were two gay guys who walked around the house like they owned the place. Patrick, the big blond guy, was my favorite of the two. He was quieter than and not as mean as his darker counterpart, and if I didn't already know it, I never would've guessed he was gay. Chad was opposite from Patrick in several ways. He was bitterer and took his job of decorating the house much more seriously.

I was in the kitchen doing homework when they walked in. Tate had been sitting across from me with his head in his hands watching me, but he had noticeably stiffened when they entered.

"Hm, what damage could we do to this place?" Chad asked. Patrick just ignored him and glared daggers at Tate. Great, who else didn't like him?

"Excuse me," I said. Chad, Patrick, and even Tate looked surprised. "I thought you two were supposed to stay outside."

"Well, isn't this interesting?" Chad asked, eyeing me as if I was a brand new home designing magazine. "For your information, your mother has given Patrick and me full reign of the house decorating job."

"She's not my mother," I said, irritated with Chad already. Chad rolled his eyes.

"She's the mommy figure of this house. So by all definition, yes you poor misfit, she _is _your mother." Chad said with his dark eyes narrowed dangerously at me. "And I don't remember asking you for your opinion."

"And I don't remember anyone giving you permission to come inside my house."

Chad chuckled darkly. "The fact that you think that this it's your house just proves how exceedingly ignorant you are. This isn't your house; you know it, I know it, even the house itself knows it."

Tate stood suddenly and glared at Chad. "C'mon Tay, let's go somewhere else and finish this." Before I could object, Tate already scooped up my Chemistry book and papers and was heading towards the door.

"Oh this is priceless," Chad said, laughing evilly. "I hope you know you're not the first hopeless loner that pyscho has obsessed over."

Tate grabbed my hand and hauled me through the door. He didn't let go until he had dragged me up to my room.

"Tate, what did he mean by that?" I asked. Tate looked cornered.

"Nothing, my family has known Chad and Patrick for a long time and Chad recently had a…disagreement with us. That's why he's acting like an ass."

I searched Tate's face for any sign of lying. If he _was_, he was pretty good at it; he kept his face blank and his eyes looked empty. I sighed.

"And here I thought he was always an ass."

Tate laughed but I cut him off. "Just promise me one thing, Tate: while we're friends, just don't lie to me."

Tate's jaw tightened and he gave me a stiff nod. He pulled out _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets _from his pocket. He had finished the first book and was moving through the second at an alarming pace. I had told him he must do nothing but read it all day. Tate had smirked and asked, "What do you think I do when you're at school?"

Speaking of Tate waiting for me to come home, he had made a habit of walking through our front door twenty minutes after I got home. He never felt the need to knock; he just walked in and made a bee-line for the kitchen. Hannah had also made a habit of waiting at the foot of the stairs for Tate to walk in. When he did, she'd jump up and would shriek, "Hi!". Tate just ended up either nodding without looking at her, or ignoring her completely. This resentment, however, only fueled the crush Hannah was developing on my friend.

* * *

After Tate went home that night, I got ready for bed and marched up to my bedroom. But when the lights went out and I snuggled into the covers, I got that now familiar hunted feeling. A shadow shifting in my room looked like a person. I sat up and stared. That was most certainly _not _my imagination.

I sat that way for a while, and right when I started to relax again, the shadow moved an inch to the right. An inch closer to me.

I bolted out of bed and grabbed for my cell phone. Cell phones had light, and right now I _needed_ some fucking light.

I managed to find it. And with shaking hands, I shined the fluorescent bluish-white light across my bed.

What I found looked like a black Slenderman.

When the light hit him, Rubberman lunged with beetle-black eyes flashing dangerously. I lost all common sense and chucked my phone at him. He dodged and leapt across the bed at me.

Screaming, I made a run for the door. In the darkness I rammed into the door and bounced backwards and into a firm and lean body. Hands tightened around my arms and instinct kicked in and I swung my leg back and into this Rubberman's groin. The grip on my arms loosened and I knocked the latex covered hands away as if they were spiders. The doorknob twisted easily in my hand and the door opened a teeny bit, but I felt a latex coated hand twine itself into my hair and yank me back. I screamed in frustration and terror and managed to rip myself from Rubberman; a fistful of my chestnut hair was still clutched in his hand.

The beetle-black eyes gleamed with malice but before he could come at me again I bolted out the door and down the hall. Rubberman's feet pounded after me; I could hear him. I flew down the stairs and made it for the front door. But hands tugged at my shirt and the cotton material ripped open. I was then thrown to the ground. I stared back up at Rubberman, feeling helpless. He stared down at me and stooped down so that his body hovered over mine. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see anymore. Somewhere far away, a voice was shouting my name...

_"Tay! Tay, wake up!"_

I sprang up; I was back in my bed, sweating, panting, but unhurt. I searched the room and found a concerned pair of dark brown eyes gazing at me.

"Tate…?" My question was caught in my throat as tears stung the corners of my eyes. Without meaning to, I threw myself into Tate's chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. Tate recovered from the shock fast and wrapped his arms around me as well.

"It's okay," He muttered into my hair. "It'll be okay; I'm here. I'm right here."

I sobbed into his shirt. So that was the terror Tess had been dealing with for almost a month now? No wonder she was too scared to close her eyes; every time she did, all she saw was that rubber suit and those eyes…

"What was it?" Tate asked, stroking my hair.

I described the nightmare as best as I could without bursting into tears again. Tate's face got oddly closed when I mentioned Rubberman, but I dismissed the action and tried not to cry anymore. Tate didn't say anything until I finished, and when I did, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest again.

We sat in that position for a while. I'm not sure exactly how long we stayed like that, but I was glad that he was just _there_. Wait, that reminded me…

"Tate," I said, pushing myself away from him so I could look into his face. "What were you doing here tonight?"

Tate didn't answer right away. Instead he looked into my icy eyes and pushed a lock of hair away from my face.

Then he sighed. "You caught me; I came up here to make sure you were okay."

"How'd you even get in?" I asked, looking around the room. The windows were still closed and locked. Tate followed my gaze.

"Your back door was open,"

"That door always seems to be open doesn't it?" I thought for a moment before thinking of another question. "Why did you want to make sure, I was okay?"

Tate turned a faint scarlet and shrugged. "Believe it or not, I care about you, Tay. And I wouldn't put it past Chad and Patrick to try and do something."

"You mean you thought _they_ would hurt me?"

Tate narrowed his eyes. "Well, yeah. I overheard them talking about you after I left. They weren't nice things, I'll tell you that."

Though I still had several questions to ask him, a wave of tiredness hit me with a force. All I knew was that I didn't want to be alone again.

"Tate, I know this'll sound creepy and weird, but do you think you can stay here tonight? Just to wake me up if I have another nightmare." I ducked my head, embarrassed by my own need to have someone else there while I slept like a teddy bear.

But Tate gave me a kind smile and nodded. "Yeah, just go to bed. I'll be here."

I lay back down. As I closed my eyes, I could feel the slight tugs in my hair that meant Tate was petting me again. I smiled to myself and drifted off to a deep and, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Hey there, y'all. For a brief confession here, the only thing that actually really scared me about season one was Rubberman. Seriously. I hated it whenever he popped up, even after when you find out who he really is. But I knew I couldn't write an American Horror Story fanfiction without Rubberman. Don't worry though, there'll be more of him later on...**

**On the other hand...reviews! They make me so happy, and they don't take that much effort. So review and let me know how you're feeling about this story so far (but NO flames, I have no tolerance for them).**

**Until next chapter: bye! :)**


	8. 8: Halloween

I still wasn't sure if I believed Tate's story about coming up to check on me or not. I was just happy he was there to wake me up before that nightmare went even farther. He wasn't there when I woke up, so I just got up and got ready for school.

I had to stop myself from falling asleep several times throughout the day. It didn't help that every time I closed my eyes, I saw those beetle-black eyes and the firm and lean body pinning me down. It was no wonder that Dee noticed something was off right when I took my seat beside her in Chemistry.

"What's with you?" She asked. Paul and Kelsie walked in holding hands and listening attentively. I described my nightmare to them; Kelsie's eyes were wide with horror, Paul looked sick, and Dee was looking like she should've been there, to kick the crap out of Rubberman.

"That's a hell of a nightmare," Paul said. I nodded and tried to keep my eyes open. "What do you think it means?"

"What what means?" I asked, my words muffled by a yawn. Dee snatched her water bottle from her desk and splashed some water into my face. I blinked the liquid from my eyelashes. "Thanks, Dee."

"Well, psychiatrists think that what you dream has something to do with what's going on in your life, and what you're afraid of. By what you described, this Rubberman is a suit from an S&M shop. And the suit could mean intimacy, so are you afraid of intimacy?"

I stared at him. Did he seriously just examine me like a psychiatrist? Paul must have read my mind, because he quickly explained: "I'm going into psychiatry after I graduate. I think it's fascinating, how they can decipher dreams and behaviors like they do." He looked slightly embarrassed but continued on. "So, do you think that it's intimacy you're afraid of?"

"It could be she's afraid of rough sex," Dee said with a sly grin. I rubbed the rest of the water from my face and opened my mouth to say something, but Kelsie had an opinion as well.

"But it could also mean someone in her life wants to _have_ that with her." She said quietly, her thin and soft hair shaking along with the rest of her.

"That would be an interesting way of putting it," Paul said thoughtfully, ignoring the look I was giving him. "It would be as if her subconscious was subtlety warning her that someone capable of attacking her wanted her in that way."

"Please stop shrinking me," I said. They all looked at me, as if wanting my opinion on the whole situation. "Look, thanks for your opinion, but I think it was just one of those dreams where you have no idea where they came from, but they still showed up."

Paul narrowed his eyes at me. "I don't think you believe that. I've noticed that the corners of your eyes crinkle up when you lie. But if you want, let's go ahead and drop the subject. So, what does everyone think of this weather we've been having?"

Kelsie, Paul, and I discussed the weather for majority of the class. Dee wanted to keep talking about Rubberman, but we ignored every advance she made and chatted about the wonders of the bright blue sky. Eventually, she gave up.

On the way home from school, I resisted the urge to tell Tess about my nightmare. She had stopped having them, after seeing Rubberman in her dreams for twenty two consecutive nights. She was turning back to her normal self; I didn't want to bring the terrified and cautious Tess back. She didn't notice my quietness though, she was too busy telling me about Blake, a boy in her health and gym class who she thought was going to ask her out.

"So," Tess said slowly. "What about you and Ta_t_e?" She clicked her tongue the same way he did when we all met, to put emphasis on the second t.

I stopped and stared at her. "What _about _Tate?"

"Well you two have been spending a lot of time together lately. I'm just trying to establish your relationship with him."

"I don't have any relationship with him!" I said. "We're just friends!"

"I've heard that before," Tess said with a smirk. "Clearly you haven't seen the way he looks at you. Everyone else has noticed, even Moira has! I suggest you have a talk with him to see where you stand."

I rolled my eyes and plugged my headphones into my ears. Tess smirked and laughed, knowing she won the conversation. But it got me thinking; what Paul, Dee, and Kelsie said about the possibilities of what my dream could mean. Someone dangerous wanting me in a sexual way, and Tess telling me that Tate looks at me a certain way. Was it even possible that Tate was capable enough to try and…_rape_ me? Sure, I've admitted several times that Tate was slightly creepy and odd but that there was something else about him that seemed redeemable. And then there was Violet warning me that Tate wasn't everything he set himself up to be. I shook my head and tried not to think too much about my friend who would be at my house a few minutes after I was.

* * *

Tate strode into the kitchen twenty minutes after I got home. Moira, who had been in the kitchen with me, looked at him with a closed expression. Tate took his place across from me and started flipping through my math textbook. Hannah came in too, looking flustered and frustrated.

"Can I get anything for you, Miss Hannah?" Moira asked, being her usual polite self. Hannah glared at her.

"Yes, you can go fetch my backpack from my room. And after that, you can clean it 'til it shines: you missed several spots last time you cleaned."

Moira narrowed her good eye at Hannah before nodding and leaving the room. I glared at Hannah, and desperately hoped that Moira was spitting into her food at dinner. Hannah turned her angry gaze to me.

"Can't you do that somewhere else?"

"I don't know, I like it here. Can't you stop acting like a bitch to Moira?"

Hannah snorted. "Standing up for the help, are you? Figures, Mom always said you're going to end up that way if you don't figure out what you're doing after high school."

"I have figured out what I'm doing after high school, but thanks for your concern." I said, turning my face back down to the paper. From above Hannah huffed out a lot of breath.

"Yeah right, if you have it all figured out, what _do _you plan on doing?"

I glanced at Tate before looking at my stepsister. I hadn't admitted what I wanted to do after high school to anyone before. But in my gut, I've wanted to do it since first seeing that man in preschool.

"I want to become a paranormal investigator. With what I can do, I figured I could be a great use to some team out there."

Tate looked up at me sharply. Right when I mentioned becoming a paranormal investigator, his ears had perked up a mile. Hannah, on the other hand, went rigid and her face looked like she had swallowed a whole lemon.

"Do you even think it still works? You've been choking it down for years now; don't you think you'd be able to see them?"

"I'm confused; see who?" Tate said hastily. His darks eyes were wide and he looked really interested. Hannah smirked.

"So you haven't told him yet? I figured you would, you two spend every waking moment with each other." Hannah stood so that she was right over Tate's shoulder. He paid her no mind and kept his eyes on me. "Does this fit, Taylor? '_I see dead people_' Ha!"

Tate's eyes got wider. "You can actually _see _dead people?"

"I prefer the word ghost, but whatever floats your boat." I said stiffly. Tate smiled and muttered something that sounded like "I knew it," but it was so faint that I could've been hearing things. I shifted in my seat. "I looked it up once; it's called Clairvoyance or something like that. It's weird right?"

"No," Tate said, still looking at me like he had never seen anything quite like me before. Hannah looked at him as if he had lost his marbles. "It's like a super-power! That reminds me," He cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed. I figured I knew him well enough now to know that it meant something that had to do with Tate's feelings. "Do you want to hang out with me Halloween? Like away from the house, because that's the only place we've ever hung out."

I blinked. Well, that wasn't expected. Apparently neither did Hannah because she looked like she wanted to slap Tate.

"Um sure," I said. Hannah stamped her foot and stormed off. Tate looked triumphant and I struggled to stop the rising heat in my cheeks from showing. "So where will we be going?"

Tate shrugged, still looking like he had just won a war. "I was thinking someplace special. You'll have to wait until we get there."

I couldn't get rid of the butterflies in my stomach that resided in my stomach for the rest of the day.

* * *

Tate threw rocks at my bedroom window Halloween night. I finished writing my note to Dad, telling him I was going out, and charged down the stairs. Tess met me at the bottom.

"Ready for your date with Tate?" She asked, with an I-told-you-so look on her face. I rolled my eyes.

"It's not a date; we're just hanging out."

"Yeah, sure you are." Tess winked at me as I passed her. "Just make sure to use a condom when you find your _hangout_."

Even though I laughed, I still felt the familiar sensation of my face burning. It was a relief to walk outside into the cool air of October. Tate was waiting.

"Ready?"

"I'll be ready when you tell me where we're going." I said. Tate just laughed and pulled me away from the house, as if he couldn't get away from it faster.

The walk to where we were going was long; and Tate never let up onto where our destination was. We passed several kids already trick-or-treating; Tate watched them all, soaking everything in. At one point there was a flock of pigeons that Tate charged for, scaring them all into flying away. It shocked me to see how childish he was acting. But it was nice to see this side of him all the same.

I managed to piece together where we going when a sign saying the beach was a few miles away. Tate saw the sign and he had grabbed hold of my hand and started running with me in tow. We made it to a lighthouse next to a rocky shore, and Tate dove into the sand before making sand-angels. I laughed and laid down beside him and proceeded to do the same. After a while Tate rolled over so that he was on top of me.

"Pinned you," He whispered. I laughed and shoved him off and stood up. I then began to run.

"Come and get me, slow poke!" I called over my shoulder, kicking my flip-flops off. Tate gave a fake roar and chased after me. He caught up fast and tackled me gently. I fell to the ground in an overdramatic display.

We sat side by side for a while. Then Tate stretched out of his side and rested in head in my lap. "You know, I come here _every _Halloween. It's the perfect place to hang out. You can look out at the ocean and see, if only for a few hours at least, that compared to the rest of the world, you're just a speck. Sometimes when the world gets so close that you can't breathe, you can look at there and realize that next to everyone else, your problems count for jack shit."

It seemed a little depressing to me. "So you come here only once a year?" Tate shifted in my lap.

"It's the only time I can ever get away from everything." He looked up at me. "But you've helped. You help make me forget where I am, and that's a good thing."

I smiled and pushed a stray piece of hair away from his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was holding his tongue. I broke his intense gaze and laid down on my back. Tate shifted his head so that it was now on my stomach.

"So, you said you could see ghosts? Would you tell me about them?" Tate asked after a long time of silence.

I racked my brain for them all. Tate listened to all my stories; he was a very good audience. When the sun began to slide down over the ocean, he sat me up and pulled me so that I was leaning against him.

The sun slid down so that it was so dark we could no longer see the horizon. The only light we had was coming from the bright and cold stars above, and the full moon, which was bathing the beach in silver moonlight.

"Happy Halloween, Tate," I muttered. He grinned.

"Happy Halloween, Tay,"


	9. 9: Interrogations

Tate and I walked back home from the beach a little after midnight. I couldn't keep the angry red blush that stained my face as Tate kept a firm grip on my hand. The air had a certain chill in the air that caused goose bumps to prickle up on my arms. Tate noticed and threw his jacket on me. There were a few straggling children in their costumes begging their parents to let them continue trick-or-treating.

"So how do you think tonight went?" Tate asked when we got onto a deserted street.

"It was nice, Tate," I replied, unable to keep the smile off my face. Tate grinned and we continued on our way home.

"Does your family know where you were tonight?" Tate asked as we turned the corner to Berro Drive. "I don't want them to be worried about you."

"Tess knew I was with you," I said. "And I left my dad a note where he could see it. They _should_ know."

We stopped at the gate to the house. Tate was looking at the house with a dreaded expression. I looked at him. "You okay?"

Tate shrugged. "Yeah, I am. Let's hurry up; It's freezing out here." He led the way into the gate and into the house. We entered the foyer to find Hannah sitting at the foot of the stairs. Upon noticing us, her eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Ha! Caught you!" Before I could ask what she meant, she dashed away from us and into the formal dining room yelling, "I found them!"

I exchanged a glance with Tate, confused. But all he had to offer was a shrug. So we had no other choice but to follow her.

Dad and Joan sat at the head of the table with Hannah standing at their shoulders like an overexcited guard dog. Tess was beside Dad looking frustrated. And Constance sat in the middle looking disdainful. A little boy who appeared about eight or nine was swinging from chair to chair. His eyes looked like chips of ice staring me down.

"Where have you been?" Dad asked. Tate and I glanced at each other.

"We went out," I stated vaguely. There was no way I was telling them about the beach. "I left a note…"

"I _tried _to tell them that," Tess said.

"There wasn't any note," Joan said with gravel in her voice. "Now explain to us why you were out so late."

Maybe it was because Tate was there and I was feeling brave, but however it happened, I squared my shoulders at Joan and said as calmly as possible. "I. Left. A. Note. It was taped to the fridge and it's probably still there, if only you weren't too thick to see it."

"Don't talk to your mother that way!" Dad snapped, looking furious. I rounded on him.

"She's _not_ my mother! And she _never_ will be! Just because _you _forgotten about Mom doesn't mean I have!" I snarled and stormed off to the kitchen where I _knew _the stupid note would be. No one moved after I left, but I didn't care, that bitch deserved what she heard, and so did Dad.

I turned the corner to face the fridge and I scanned for the small white piece of paper that I had scribbled on. But there was one small problem: it wasn't there. That couldn't be right; I distinctly remember writing it and taping it _here_.

"Hey!" A voice hissed from the back door. I turned to see Violet Harmon waving at me with a crumbled piece of paper in her hands. My note…

"Your stepsister threw it away," Violet whispered as I grabbed the note from her hands. I looked up from my untidy handwriting to thank Violet, but she was already sprinting away. Odd…

I reentered the dining room; everyone was still where I left them, except that kid. Tate was staring at the young child with his nose curled, as if he smelled something awful. Everyone turned to look at me as I entered, and I held up the note. The smug grin that had been planted on Hannah's face melted away when she saw it. Yeah, that's right, bitch.

"Told you I left a note," I said, tossing the paper down in front of Dad and Joan. Dad looked apologetic but I stalked away from him to take my spot beside Tate.

"If you don't mind my asking, Taylor," Constance began in her voice that was ragged from age. "Where exactly were you two tonight? The note simply states you were out." The little boy jumped up onto Constance's lap at the sound of her voice.

"I'm not telling you where we were," I said. "We were just out."

"Do you have anyone else to vouch for that?" Joan asked. Hannah grinned evilly again; she knew she had us cornered again.

I didn't answer. If I admitted to Tate and I being alone the entire time, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that Dad, Joan, and our creepy neighbor would assume we had sex. And by the scandalized look on Tess's face, she thought we did too.

"I was there," Violet Harmon's voice sounded from behind us. Tate and I spun around to see the sad-looking girl walk up to take my other side; as far away from Tate as possible I noted. "Sorry, I got held up: that weird guy from the other block kept talking to me about crap."

I tried to keep the utterly surprised look on my face down to a minimum. What the hell? Violet smiled warmly at everyone else, but she gave me a glance that screamed, "Go with it!" So I nodded.

"Yeah; it wasn't just Tate and me, Violet came to." I said, nudging her with my elbow. Tate was still standing stiff beside me, glaring at Violet untrustingly. I willed him to play along.

"Oh really?" Constance asked. Her pale eyebrows had disappeared into her beach-blond hair. "Tate and Violet? They were with you?"

"Yeah," Tate said finally. "Ever heard of something called burying the hatchet?" He turned his glare from Violet to Constance. I felt like I was missing something.

There was a moment of silence where everyone seemed to be weighing this new addition. The only noise came from the little boy, who was now stomping around the floor, apparently fascinated by the hollow sound of the floorboards.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dad sighed. "Okay, just go up to bed Taylor. Tate and Violet, I suggest you two go home; I'm sure your parents are concerned as to where you are." He ushered all three of us out into the foyer.

I glanced between Tate and Violet, both of whom were standing as far as possible from each other. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow Tate. You too, Violet?" Tate looked astounded that I would invite Violet as well, and Violet gave me a tiny nod before leaving through the front door. Tate's eyes followed her out before turning back to me.

"I had fun tonight, Tay," He said softly. I blushed furiously again and nodded. Suddenly Tate was standing right in front of me, looking ready to actually get to what he meant to do in my bedroom all those nights ago.

"Enough of that, lovebirds," Tess whispered from somewhere next to us. "Joan is pissed that you guys got off without punishment, so I suggest you guys save the make out for whenever she isn't _around_."

Tate's face looked like he wanted to punch the wall, but instead he nodded stiffly and, with one last goodbye for me, he disappeared out the door. I watched him go, feeling empty when he left. But I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself, because Tess grabbed me by the arm and started to pull me upstairs.

We made it to my bedroom and Tess questioned me about everything that happened tonight. I told her, but left out details. She seemed disappointed that Tate didn't get any romantic stuff in, and by romantic she meant make out sessions and possibly hookups. But she still squealed with delight at the beach scene anyway. When she left, I laid in my bed, wondering what life would be like if I had stayed back home in Florida.


	10. 10: Silver Eyes

A knock on my door broke my concentration from the mountain of homework I was tackling. Tess appeared holding a large platter of cookies. She held them up and brought them to me.

"What are those?" I asked, gesturing to the cookies. "I thought you hated baking."

Tess sat the platter down on the edge of my bed. "Our kooky neighbor made you cookies."

"Which neighbor? I thought they were all kooky."

"Constance; she almost bit my hand off when I tried to have one." Tess said. "What homework do you have?"

I glanced down at the stack of papers. "History, Chemistry, and English; it sucks how they decided to throw this on us now."

"That's what you get for being in all honors classes." Tess laughed before starting to exit.

"Aren't you going to at least have one of these?" I asked, gesturing to the giant pile of cookies at the foot of my bed.

"Nope," Tess replied. "They're probably too fattening for me; and besides Tate might want some whenever he decides to show up." She smirked and left before I could give her a smart reply.

I did my best to ignore the cookies sitting there. But after ten minutes, the sweet stench was floating into my nostrils. I glared at them from the top of my book. After arguing with myself, I tempted myself into plucking the first cookie on the top. It appeared to be chocolate chip. I shook my head before preparing to take a bite.

"I wouldn't eat that if I were you," Violet's voice scared the crap out of me. I dropped the cookie and glared at her for randomly appearing like that.

"You've got to stop showing up like that," I growled. Violet shrugged and plopped down on my bed. "Why shouldn't I eat these?" I asked, turning the cookie this way and that, inspecting it.

"Constance most likely added some syrup in them that causes severe stomachaches and internal bleeding."

I threw the cookie back on to the plate. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, she made me some cupcakes like those once. Good thing I didn't eat them."

"Why would she try to feed me tainted cookies?" I asked, peering at the pile with a new suspicion.

Violet blinked. "She wants to get rid of anyone who gets close to Tate."

I paused. Constance and Tate…Tate had dark blond hair; Constance's roots were the same shadowy blond. Gee, I'm stupid.

"Tate's mom is Constance," I said. It wasn't a question, and Violet didn't try to correct me. "I'm an idiot,"

"No you're not," Violet said, surprising me. I expected her to agree. "It took me forever to figure it out. And even then, Constance herself had to tell me. So you're on the right track: not stupid, just blind."

I looked at her. "Thanks Violet; if you don't mind, can I ask you a personal question?"

Violet narrowed her eyes before giving me a reluctant nod.

"How did you and Tate break up? You told me that he was all evil and dangerous, and last night neither of you would stand within five feet of each other. It must've been pretty recent and bad."

At first, she didn't answer. But then she sighed. "I think you need to talk to Tate about that. The way he explains it, it'll clear everything up."

I thought about ignoring her and pushing the subject, but I didn't. Instead we stood and took the platter of poisonous cookies to the kitchen. We crushed every cookie in our hands before forcing the remains into the garbage disposal. The satisfying grind sounded, and I smiled despite the waste of chocolate chip cookies.

* * *

I was home alone a few days later. Well, not completely alone. Tate left the library as soon as Violet marched in with the rest of the Harmons. She introduced me Dr. Ben Harmon, her dad, and Jeffrey, her baby brother.

The baby in Vivien's arms stared at me with wide blue eyes that matched his fathers. I silently scolded myself after thinking that Jeffrey's eyes showed wisdom far beyond his few months. Without meaning to, I asked, "Can I hold him?"

Ben and Vivien glanced at each other before settling the infant into my arms. Jeffrey's eyes met mine evenly; blue meeting silver. He was an alarmingly small baby, hardly bigger than a loaf of bread. And he was also almost too silent to believe.

"Interesting library you have here," Ben voiced from a shelf. I handed Jeffrey back to his mother and went to see what Dr. Harmon was looking at. The book was thick, black, and leather-bounded with no writing of any kind on it. Ben plucked it off the shelf and fingered through the first few pages. The title page read: _A Guide for Those with the Sight_.

Vivien and Violet left with Jeffrey in tow. Tate reentered soon after they left; Ben glanced up at him before continuing his scanning of the creepy book. Tate looked awkward for a second before settling in to continue reading the third Harry Potter book. Ben nudged me and pointed to a spot on his page. "Have you ever read this?"

I peered at the page. _Those who have been born with the Sight have witnessed death at a very young age, mostly minutes after birth. They are usually marked with icy eye colors and are gifted by the Sight. The Sight can vary in from predicting the near future to the ability to see auras of the living to the ability to see spirits of those passed._

I stopped reading. This was starting to get really freaky. Tate must've sensed something was up, because he was at my side in no time flat. I pushed the book back into Ben's hands, who was looking at me with an awed expression. Then he spoke.

"Tay, do you mind if I borrow this?"

I shook my head and gestured for him to leave. Ben wasted no time obeying. Tate watched him leave and turned back to me, waiting for an explanation.

"What was that all about?"

"That book just described me, Tate." I said, my voice tight. I explained what I had read; Tate listened.

"Who have you known who died?" Tate asked. Genuine curiosity gleamed in his eyes.

"My mom," I croaked. "S-she died when I was six or seven. Suicide. I found the body." I opened my mouth to say more but all that came out was a sob. Next thing I knew, I was being crushed into Tate's chest. He held me as I cried, saying nothing. I pushed myself away from him to continue my story. "B-but when I found her, there was two of her. You know? Her body was lying on the ground, but her ghost was standing over it, looking sad. After her, that's when I really started _seeing_ them; ghosts, I mean. After her, they all started showing up."

Tate looked at me, into my eyes. "That's why your eyes are silver, isn't it? What color were they before?"

"I think hazel, like Tess's," I said. I wiped away the remaining tears from my face. "I seriously don't remember what. To me, they've always been silver."

"Silver eyes," Tate whispered, nodding.

* * *

**A/N: Well, now you finally know how Tay's mom died, and now you know that now Ben has the book mentioning Tay's eye color, everyone in that house is about to start thinking about getting out. Things are about to get interesting...**


	11. 11: Death

About a week after my confession about my mom to Tate, he came into my room unexpectedly and demanded I accompany him to the basement. At first I had refused, having being in the middle of studying for a big test the next day. But Tate had eventually lost all patience and pulled me by the hands to the stairs.

As I entered the basement, I realized I had never visited before. Just from getting a glimpse of the area, I could tell it was like a maze down here. Tate pushed me down the rest of the way.

"Now Tay, before you say anything else," Tate said, looking around the basement nervously. "Remember how I told you how this house was haunted?"

I nodded uncertainly. Where was this going? Tate swallowed before continuing.

"Please keep an open mind throughout this, okay?" He turned and disappeared into the gloom of the basement, but returned a moment later. And this time he wasn't alone.

A man in an old-fashioned lab coat with light brown, disheveled hair was peering at me through a gaze that was hazed over. The woman beside him held herself in a very proud and sophisticated manner. Her honey-blond hair was curled and pinned up in a style that looked ancient. She looked at me from over her nose, her bright red lips pinched.

"Tay, meet Dr. Charles Montgomery and his wife, Nora," Tate said. He sounded really nervous. I looked at the two people standing a little ways away from Tate.

"You mean the first owners of the house?" I asked. Charles turned his head in my direction and I remembered how Paul and Dee had told me he had been on drugs for the majority of the time before he died.

"Are you ready for the procedure?" Charles asked. "He glanced to his wife. "Nora, have you readied the patient?"

"We're not operating today Charles!" Nora snapped.

I turned away from the ghostly couple to Tate. "You said there were several ghosts here. Where's the rest?"

Tate looked over my shoulder and nodded. I turned and watched as several shadows moved out into the dull light. Two redheaded twin boys with slashes on their throats and faces came first. One of them gave me a wide smile that showed his molars. Behind them, a woman whose skin was burned was clutching two little girls close to her. All three of them were blind in at least one eye; their blackened skin was cracked and blood-like ooze was drying on top of the barbequed flesh and all that was left of their hair was knobby little tufts that were dry and crisp. Standing near them was a tall and handsome man who looked to be in his early twenties with flowing brown hair that had been well cared for. A woman with beautiful raven-black hair was nearby, a white flower tucked behind her ear. From another corner, a petite girl with auburn hair looked at me with distaste in her eyes. I recognized the gay men who decorated the house for Halloween and Moira, who appeared embarrassed. Then the Harmon family strolled into view…

"Oh my God…" I whispered. Ben and Vivien looked apologetic, Violet's expression showed nothing. "You guys were the family who owned the house a few years ago…"

"At least now you know," The auburn-haired girl growled. "Now we can finally walk around the house again, and not hide in here like rats."

"Hayden, stay out of it," Ben warned.

"No!" Hayden yelled. "We've been hiding down here for months now, ever since she moved in! It's not even our house anymore!"

"This is always going to be our house," Chad said with a disgusted look in Hayden's direction.

"Really Chad? Remind me again who's been slinking around the basement and who's been living it up upstairs!"

"You need to calm down," Moira said sharply, like a mother scolding a child. "I thought the plan was to recruit Miss Jennings for help, not chase her away."

"I'm not being chased away," I said simply. They all looked at me with mixed expressions: Hayden was angry, Vivien was sympathetic, and Nora was glaring at me from over her nose.

"Tay, I know this is a lot to take in now," Ben said slowly. I noticed he was holding that book from the library. "But we really need your help right now."

"Help you?" I asked. Ben leapt forward with the book already opened and ready.

"Right here," He said, pointing to the page. "Read this," I looked down at the page and read. _Using the proper techniques, one with the Sight may successfully view a spirit's death scene as if they were actually there. _Then it went on with directions.

"And you want me to see how you all died?" I asked. Ben nodded.

"I want to go first," Vivien said stepping forward. Jeffrey was transferred to Violet's arms and took a spot in front of me.

Ben blinked. "No Viv, we don't know what'll happen."

"I don't care, Ben," Vivien said. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, as if communicating without words. But eventually Ben nodded and stepped back.

"Are you ready, Tay?"

"I guess," I said tensely. Tate was standing a little way of my shoulder, looking slightly worried.

"Alright," Ben started. "The book says to make contact with each other." Vivien and I looked at each other before pressing our palms together. "Now close your eyes," We did so. I felt the eyes of several restless spirits resting on me. "Vivien, now you must think very clearly about your death." There was a lengthy pause where I started to feel stupid. Watch this all be a well-organized prank. But then the floor was pulled from under my feet.

I fell on my back and found myself in the living room. Candles were lit and two nurses walked past me with Charles close by. I stood up and saw Vivien lying underneath a pile of bloody sheets. She was screaming and Ben was gripping her hand tightly. It took me a moment to realize she was in labor.

Charles started pulling something large from Vivien's lower half. I turned away from the scene; I've seen the video in Health class, I knew what was coming next. And I didn't really want to see it again. There was a faint scream, and then it fell silent. Jeffrey had joined the house.

Jeffrey's body was given to Nora and she took it away. Vivien screamed again and Charles rushed forward to tell her to push.

Wait, Vivien was having another baby? The only infant I've seen in the house was Jeffrey, which implied that his twin was still alive. Another baby boy was born, and Constance swooped in to go clean him. That little boy with Constance; was that Vivien's other son?

"She's lost a lot of blood…" Charles said. Ben screamed at him to fix her, help her, save her. But by the way Vivien was looking around in a haze, and the way Charles looked at his nurses hopelessly, I knew it was too late to save Vivien. Charles and the nurses sat up and left Ben to grieve.

"Stay with me Viv," Ben was saying, doing his best to not break down and cry. "We can get out of here, we can start over. Please stay with me…"

Violet appeared just behind her father. "Let go, Mom. You can stay with me. Let go…"

"Stay here…"

"Let go…"

I turned away and covered my ears. I didn't want to see this anymore, to hear this anymore. There was a shudder in the air, and Vivien Harmon was dead. Ben broke down, sobbing into his wife's corpse. I glanced at him, and immediately regretted it. I was watching a full grown man's heart break, and was powerless to do anything about it. I shut my eyes—

-And opened them to find myself back in the dark basement. Vivien was standing in front of me, tears glistening in her eyes. I rubbed at my own eyes, to get the tears out of them. Tate was at my shoulder, to make sure I was okay.

"I'd forgotten how painful that was," Vivien said weakly.

"You were there?" Tate asked. I couldn't find my voice. Tears were still flooding from my eyes.

Vivien nodded. "Yes, it was like I was reliving it…It was the most alive I've felt in a long time…" Her voice was filled with wonder.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to see me. What Vivien had said about feeling alive had ignited a light inside them. They all wanted to feel alive, even if for the last moments of their lives. The only lives I watched end that day was Moira's (which only fueled a hatred for Constance), Ben's, and the burnt woman's, whose name I learned was Lorraine. The last I saw that day was Violet's.

I was in Tess's room, or Violet's, when Violet started popping pills like they were Skittles. She coughed and laid on the bed before passing out. Soon afterward, Tate entered, looking distraught. One look at Violet was enough to try and pick her up bridal style. But Tate was so upset he could hardly walk straight, let alone carry dead weight. So he laid her on the floor and started to drag her away. I followed, listening to Tate scream and sob at the same time.

"Don't you die on me, Violet! Don't you die!"

He got her to the bathroom and crawled into the bathtub with her in his arms. Tate turned the shower on and screamed her name while water rained down on the two of them. This was getting uncomfortable for me to watch. This was proof that Tate carried deep feelings for Violet. And some part of my mind told me that he still did.

Even though the shudder meaning Violet died went through the air, Tate still forced his fingers into her throat and caused her to throw up. I left the room, refusing to watch anymore. Next thing I knew, I was back in the basement. My face was wet; I hadn't even realized I'd been crying.


	12. 12: We Are Broken

The next few days were spent in my room. It seemed that ever since I discovered my house was crawling with ghosts, my head hadn't stopped spinning. And because they knew that I knew they were there, they no longer bothered hiding in the basement.

Like yesterday, I was on my way to the kitchen when I ran into a man who looked like an exterminator. He had commented to me about how we were low on food. Then he proceeded to raid my refrigerator. I had merely turned right back around and trudged back upstairs.

Ben Harmon on the other hand, kept trying to get me to read that damned book. Personally, I wouldn't mind it if I never saw it ever again. But Ben was making my library very hard to enjoy when he popped up every twenty minutes asking me to read a certain paragraph.

The only ghost I allowed to stay in my room was Violet. She pitied me for what I was going through, and was only there to make sure I didn't try and kill myself; because then there would be no hope for anyone escaping this house. And she stayed to make sure Tate was not close to me.

I had taken the news of Tate being dead rather hard. Why was I so stupid? Why couldn't I have seen what he was before? Then I wouldn't feel this way, and we could've still been friends. He persisted in trying to talk to me, but if Violet wasn't keeping him away, Vivien or Ben was. I knew eventually I would have to find out why the Harmon family hated him so, but not right now.

After a week of moping around like the world had ended, Chad stormed into my bedroom with an angry Ben and an embarrassed Patrick behind him.

"Are you done with your depression yet?" Chad asked feverishly. Patrick gave me an apologetic glance from behind his ex-lover's shoulder.

"Chad, do everyone here a favor and get out," Ben growled. Chad spun around to face him.

"I can't! And you can't either; none of us can!" Chad's dark eyes glared at me. "At least none of us can until little miss my-life-sucks decides to get off her ass and help us!"

I stood, fired up by Chad's ranting; despite them being true. "I'm off my ass now, okay! And I don't get how you plan on having me help you! I think we've all already established that burning sage doesn't do anything!"

Ben stepped forward. "It's in that book; I've been trying to show you. Hold on' I'll go get it." Ben left the room, leaving me and Chad to glare at each other. Patrick cleared his throat.

Ben returned with the black book clasped in his hand; already open and ready to be read. "Here it is; just read this page." I took the book from his hands and read.

_In rare occasions when burning sage or exorcists do not help, it could be the house itself holding onto the spirits trapped inside. This usually happens when someone has died inside the house, but refuses to leave behind what they think is still theirs. This bond with their house will create a tie that will not be destroyed so easy. Especially if this certain spirit does not realize what they are doing to itself and the others trapped there._

"Someone is keeping you all here," I whispered.

"Excuse me?" Chad asked, his cool and collected aura briefly forgotten. "What do you mean someone is _keeping _me here?"

I stormed past all three of them. "Tell everyone in the house to meet me in the basement in five minutes. Everyone needs to know what this place is doing to them."

I turned the corner and was halfway to the stairs when I crashed into Dad. I gasped; I was convinced that he had been at work. I was growing used to being surrounded by dead people, that being around a live person was different.

"Taylor," Dad said, looking just as surprised to see me. "I thought you were out."

"That's Tess," I said as Ben walked by with Vivien and Jeffrey in tow. "She's the one with all the friends. Hannah's not here either."

"Right," Dad mumbled. He didn't seem to have heard me properly. But I ignored this. "Well, I'm on my way to work now; Mr. Murphy doesn't appreciate it when his best employees are late."

"That's nice," I said hastily. Patrick trailed past me with Hayden close behind him. Hayden gave me a curious glare before continuing on her way.

"Taylor," Dad's voice tore me away from whatever Hayden was thinking. That was odd; his voice was suddenly weak and scared sounding. "What's that you have in your hand?"

He was staring at the guide as if I was holding sin. I hid it behind my back. "Nothing; just some book I found in our library. I decided I should read it, you know? Read something different. I've got to go now; a few of my friends are expecting me at the Starbucks down the street."

"I thought you said you didn't have any friends?" Dad said stupidly. Seriously, how did this man have a high-paying job?

"Just an over exaggeration, Dad," I said hastily. "See you later!" I flew down the stairs before he could stop me again.

It looked like everyone was in the basement by the time I entered. Ben and Vivien were side by side and Violet stood nearby with Travis, the handsome long haired man, and Lorraine, the burnt lady, and her children. Hayden stood with her arms crossed in the corner, looking severely defiant. The redheaded twins, Bryan and Troy, were standing in the opposite corner. They must've been making fun of the nurses Maria and Gladys for their noticeable stab wounds. This irked Moira, who cruelly pointed out how people could see _their _causes of death. That shut the twins up fast. Then there was Tate, standing near the bottom of the stairs, looking out of place and alone. I hardened my heart and walked past him to stand in the middle of all the spirits.

"You all are probably wondering why I called this meeting," I said, not sure where to begin.

"Rumor has it you've found a way to get us out of here," Hayden said dryly. I could tell by the sound of her voice that she didn't believe it.

"Well, that's not completely true," I said. Hayden snorted. "But I have found—or Ben over there has found—a reason as to why you all are still here."

At the mention of that reason, they all snapped to attention. I swallowed before explaining what the section in the guide had said. In the end, they all looked very confused.

"So one of us is keeping us here?" Vivien asked, shifting Jeffrey in her arms.

"But we all want to leave," Travis said slowly. "We all do, don't we?" He glanced around at his peers, his large puppy-dog eyes wide and confused.

"Well there are a few of us who don't even realize their dead," Patrick said. Several spirits turned to stare at Charles Montgomery and Elizabeth Short.

Elizabeth looked offended at the idea. "It only happens every now and then! Other than that I'd be glad to leave this place behind!"

Charles shook his head to clear it from the haze of drugs. "Nora doesn't love this house. I made it for her. If she doesn't want it why would I?"

Nora. Lorraine gasped as she caught on to what I was thinking. Nora continued to wander the house raving about how my furniture was all wrong. Only the other day she shouted at me for not doing a well enough job dusting the foyer.

Chad's eyes flashed as he too caught on. "Where is she?"

Tate stepped forward to stand up to Chad. "Why do you automatically assume it's her?"

"She's the only one in this house who still believes that it's hers. And stop trying to defend you little psychopath. What are you going to do, kill me again?"

Tate had nothing to say and Chad stalked past him to leave up the stairs. Everyone scattered to find Nora. Lorraine took baby Jeffrey into her arms and ushered her daughters and Bryan and Troy into the back room, where the ghost-kids usually were supervised by either Lorraine or Vivien. Travis followed them with Violet close behind. Soon it was just Tate and I left alone in the basement.

Tate was looking miserable. His dark eyes were filled to the brim with pain. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off by exiting through the stairs. I didn't bother looking back.


	13. 13: How To Save A Life

The ghosts of the house were beside themselves trying to find Nora. I didn't bother helping; this house may be big, but not big enough to hide forever. But after an hour of everyone searching and still no Nora, people were getting in a crappy mood and were snapping at anyone within reach.

"Why are you just sitting there?" Hayden screamed at me when she spotted me relaxing in the kitchen.

"Why not?" I shot back. I wasn't in the mood to be terrorized by Hayden. But she didn't seem to be in the mood to take my crap.

"We're all stuck here and you're doing nothing! I thought you cared!"

"Who said I did?" I stood up. Hayden wasn't any taller than her, in truth we were about the same height. But that fact didn't take away the intimidated feeling I got when cornered by her.

Hayden laughed cruelly. "The way you hang out with Violet says you do. The way you keep an eye out for Vivien's baby says you do." She paused, raising a cruel eyebrow. "And the way you fawn over the little blond psychopath _proves _you care."

"Don't mention Tate to me," I growled, angry with myself for letting him in. Hayden recognized my weak point.

"Don't' mention him? How could I not with the way you two would spend every waking moment with each other? You know, I always wondered, because he never got over Violet, would you be alright with threesomes?"

I slapped her with all the strength in my arm. Hayden stared at me, shocked. But then she recovered.

"You little bitch," She shrieked before punching me square across the jaw. Next thing I knew, we were clawing and scratching at any piece of each other we could get at. But almost as soon as the fight started, it was ended.

Travis had pulled Hayden back and I recognized Tate's jacket as his arm wrapped around me. I instantly went still, and Tate reacted by reluctantly releasing me. Ben strode into the kitchen, looking angrier than I had ever seen him.

"What is going on in here?"

"Nothing anymore," I snarled. Tate put a hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off. Travis let go of Hayden, who looked like she wanted to rip me in half.

"Aw, why'd you stop it?" Chad asked. He had been watching with interest gleaming in his eyes. "This fight had just been getting good."

"Leave Chad!" Ben ordered. Chad looked like he wanted to disagree but followed instruction anyway. "Travis, Hayden, Tate, you all leave too."

Travis obeyed immediately like the puppy dog he was. Hayden glared at Ben with a large mix of emotions in her face before trudging after Travis. But Tate found reason to argue.

"No; I'm not going anywhere."

"Tate, I'm not asking you, I'm _telling _you. Now, before you make things worse."

Tate threw up his hands. "How could they get any worse?" I was surprised at how close to tears he looked. He threw me a miserable glance.

"Tate, please, _go away_," Ben ordered calmly. Tate flinched at the words but was forced to obey. He left the polished kitchen, but not without an anguished look behind him. I dropped his intense looks; they weren't helping me.

Now it was just me and Ben in the kitchen. We stood opposite of each other, not saying anything. Then, finally, Ben sighed.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into all of this, Tay,"

I shook my head. "It would've happened sooner or later. It doesn't make a difference when it happened."

Ben shrugged and hesitated before continuing. "I know right now you don't want to talk about him," Even though his name wasn't implied, I knew Ben was talking about Tate. "But you'll have to find out about him soon. I'd much rather have him tell you."

"Tell me what?" I asked. "I'm getting tired of secrets, Ben. And quite frankly, I'm getting tired of the afterlife as a whole. My life has been ruled by them since I was born, it would seem."

Ben gazed at me thoughtfully. "Come on, let's go to the backyard."

Puzzled, I followed him. He led me to the shed, where two axes were propped against the wall. Ben took one before handing me the second. Then he led the way to the gazebo. For a moment we stopped and stared at it, not saying anything.

"I'm confused, Ben," I said. "Why are we standing here staring at the gazebo?"

Ben glanced at me before answering. "Because there're bodies under here."

"Oh," That was all I could say. I looked again at the gazebo. Thick vines of ivy covered majority of the wooden beams. Little white winter flowers sprouted from those vines and perfumed the air with a sickly sweet scent. The scene was otherwise peaceful, but then Ben shattered that illusion with the fact that there were bodies hidden away.

"Yep, Moira and Hayden are both down there." Ben said. "According to that book, they can't move on until their bodies are off the property. So, since I was the one who built this thing, I should help tear it down."

I nodded. "And I assume we're going to get started."

Ben nodded.

First Ben and I chopped down the thick tendrils of ivy that wouldn't seem to let go. But it eventually gave in and we started hacking at the wooden beams that held the roof up. We didn't speak as we worked, and something told me that Ben would talk later. A few ghosts came out to watch us. Vivien brought me out a tall glass of water with a splash of lemon and words of encouragement for the both of us. Patrick offered to give me a break and I watched Ben and Patrick hammer away at the gazebo for thirty minutes before others wanted to help. Chad was angry and frustrated that Nora couldn't be found and took his rage out by replacing Ben. Bryan and Troy helped by taking their old baseball bats and whacking at the discarded pieces of lumber. Violet and Moira watched from the back porch, Violet's expression was unreadable and Moira's held excitement. I smiled; her body was under there, when it was gone, she could leave.

It became an all-day event. And it got even better when Dad called, saying he was going to a dinner party after work with Joan, meaning they would spend the night in a hotel room. Tess also texted me saying she was spending the night out. And I texted Hannah, saying that the house was being fumigated and we all made plans to stay out tonight. She replied with saying how she hated the house.

While we all worked, I noticed how _everyone _came out to watch. Violet managed to convince Lorraine and her daughters to step out in the sunshine. Moira and Vivien cooed over Jeffrey in the shade of a bare apple tree. Maria and Gladys walked about the yards, gossiping of some girls who had been in their sorority house and where they were now. Charles stared about, just as dazed and confused as usual. Elizabeth and Travis spoke of how they had wanted to be famous actors. Ben, Chad, and Patrick were taking turns destroying the gazebo, which had been reduced to a pile of scrap wood and a sheet of concrete, and they started discussing on how to best dispose of it. Hayden stood alone in the far corner of the yard, eyeing Bryan and Troy as they played in the mountain of rubble from the gazebo. I stared at all of them, all dead, and all wanting nothing more but to move on.

They didn't all deserve to die. Not really. I felt tears sting the back of my eyeballs as I thought of everything some of these people would never experience. Travis and Elizabeth would never become famous; Ben and Vivien would never be able to fix their marriage; Chad and Patrick would never move on from each other; and Violet, Bryan, Troy, and Lorraine's daughters would never get the chance to live out life and go to college, get married, have a family…Life was cruel, but when you look at death like this, it was even crueler.

The familiar feeling of a hunted animal settled down on me like a blanket. I turned around and peered at the windows until I saw who I was looking for.

There was a tiny window to the attic, and from it, Tate was watching me like a hawk. A miserable and tortured hawk, but a bird of prey nonetheless. Upon seeing me spot him, Tate stood back until he was hidden from my view.

I set my glass of water down and walked inside the house. It was time for me to find out why Tate was here.


	14. 14: Louder Than Thunder

I hesitated before pulling the string to the attic door. I realized I had never been up there before. Gosh darn it Tate, why did you have to pick this as a hiding place. I sighed and pulled on the string, revealing the ladder.

I climbed the ladder and quickly spotted Tate sitting with his back to me. He rolled a red ball into the shadows.

"Tate," I said cautiously. Tate flinched at the sound of my voice. He didn't turn around. I climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and walked up to where Tate was sitting. His shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shield his face from me. I caught on that that was exactly what he was trying to do.

So I sat down beside him and didn't look at his face. Tate proved my theory by scooting a little sideways, to better shield himself. We sat together for a while, the whole time I was trying to figure out how to better say what I needed to. But the little red ball rolling back from the shadows brought my train of thought to a screeching halt.

"Who else in here, Tate?" I asked. Tate didn't answer, but instead passed the red ball to me. I held it uncertainly in my hands. What exactly did he want me to do? There was a shuffling from the dark corner of the attic. Tate peered at me from under his eyelashes. I caught on and quickly rolled the ball into the corner.

I decided not to ask Tate automatically why he was here. Instead I figured I should ask him about something else. "Did you hide Nora up here?"

To my surprise and delight, Tate nodded. "Yeah, at first. After you all went outside I told her she could leave." His voice was curt and formal; and brimming with concealed pain.

"Why were you so bent on defending her? You do know she could be the reason you're still here?"

"Yes I know," Tate said sharply. I cringed. "But I couldn't let any of those people find her. She's been like a mother to me. And she's a damn better one then mine."

I thought back to the past few weeks where Nora had been a blubbering mess half the time, whining about where her baby was. I got the assumption that Tate didn't fully know everything about Nora Montgomery.

"Why's that?" I asked, trying to buy more time with him.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to." Tate snapped. "You're smart." He paused. "You know Constance; you should be able to figure it out."

I nodded, seeing the truth in that. "I'd rather have you tell me, Tate."

There was a loud scuffling from the corner, the red ball rolled out to me. I caught it and rolled it back, wanting to get Tate talking.

Tate sighed, as if wondering where to begin. In the end, all he said was: "We both have had our share of disappointing parents. It makes it easier to find someone else to be our parents."

I looked away from Tate at that. In a mad way, he was right. We both had had disappointing parents and longed to have a proper family. That's why Tate had looked to Nora, and why I held Ben Harmon in such high regards.

The ball rolled back out to me. I hesitated before rolling it back. Something in my gut told me this had everything to do with Tate.

"Beau seems to like you…" Tate mumbled. I shot him a side-glance.

"Who's Beau?"

Tate sighed and beckoned into the gloomy corner. "My brother,"

Chains rattled as this Beau person made a shuffling entrance. I sucked my breath in at the sight of him. My first thought was a sick, Tim Burton version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Beau was crouched over and his spine looked slightly twisted. His skull was vastly oversized and shaped like a peanut. Beau's jaw was twisted also and forced his uneven and grossly yellow teeth to jut out of his mouth at odd angles. A nest of matted dark brown hair hung loosely to Beau's shoulders and his eyes were very small and almost colorless. He crouched a little closer to me.

"Play?" He asked in a rough and muffled voice. In his deformed hand was the red ball. He rolled it out for me. I picked it up and rolled it back. Beau cried his delight and disappeared back into the shadows. Soon the ball rolled back out.

"I once read up what Beau had," Tate said slowly. His dark eyes were clouded with memories. "It's something called craniodiaphyseal dysplasia. It's supposed to happen when too much calcium builds up in the skull during the time in the mother's womb. The symptoms include seizures, intellectual disability, and paralysis. It causes disfigurement of the facial features and reduces life expectancy."

I didn't even understand half the words that came out of Tate's mouth. But I was very impressed with him for memorizing it. "Where did you read that?"

Tate hesitated before answering. "In some medical book at the school library. Took me forever to find it too; I had to ask the librarian for help."

"I have a feeling it wasn't the sickness that killed Beau." I said. I just knew that I was getting _very _close to my reason for being here.

Tate scowled and rolled back Beau's ball violently. "Constance's _boyfriend_ killed him. I think on my mom's orders too. If it wasn't for _him, _Beau could still be alive."

Even with Tate's convinced voice and though his pain, I could tell he didn't truly believe that. The part about Beau being alive that is. There was a long moment of silence that was only broken by the sound of Beau's lonely chains dragging along the floor. Then Tate sighed.

"I suppose you want to know how I got stuck here,"

I nodded, feeling it'd be best if didn't speak. Tate glanced at me from under his eyelashes.

"Couldn't I just show you? Like how you saw Vivien's and Dr. Harmon's and Moira's?" I couldn't fail to notice how he avoided Violet's name altogether and another knife stabbed at my heart.

I shook my head through the pain and cleared my head. "No; that would only show me _how_ you died, not why you died."

Tate didn't say anything, and I felt my last flare of hope die out. I heaved a sigh; I obviously wasn't going to get anywhere by asking. So I stood up and prepared to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?" Tate asked, actually facing me fully for the first time. His face was tear-stained.

"Leaving Tate," I said, my words coming out sharper than I intended. "I'm clearly not going to get anywhere with you. So why bother?" With that I turned and made my way to leave.

I heard Tate stand abruptly behind me. Then the sound of his throat clearing appeared.

"In nineteen-ninety-four, I set Constance's boyfriend on fire. He lived, but Constance told me he's in prison now. Then I shot and killed fifteen students at Westfield High. I murdered the gay couple here; Chad and Patrick. Patrick told me that he was planning on leaving Chad; that's why they hate me so much, because I stole away any chance they had at having a real family. And I…" He paused, swallowed. I turned and stared at him, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Tate gave me another miserable look, as if he was signing his own death sentence. "And I raped Vivien. Her—I mean…our…son lives next door with Constance."

I was dumbstruck. Tears fell from my face unwillingly. Tate was looking at me apprehensively, waiting for my reaction.

An image of the little boy next door floated into my mind. He had the same dirty blond hair as his father, but his eyes…they had been like chips of ice that stared into your soul. And Vivien…the other baby from her death scene…the screaming baby that Constance swept away...No wonder Constance had acted so motherly in those few moments she was in that scene…because it was her grandson…

"Oh my God," I mumbled, feeling light-headed. I stumbled but caught myself just before Tate tried to swoop in and catch me. I stared at him. In that moment, I wanted nothing more but to hate Tate Langdon.

But I couldn't.

For whatever reason, I couldn't bring myself to feel hatred or anger or even disgust for him. I was horrified at what he just confessed to, but no matter how much I wanted to—and believe me, I _really _wanted to—I couldn't feel any hatred for the grungy boy standing tortured in front of me.

"Why?" I asked. I think that was the only question I could ask at the moment.

Tate looked bewildered that I was still standing there, but he swallowed again and his voice was shaking. "I told you; Larry killed Beau. The kids…they were always so…mean a-and cruel. Chad and Patrick weren't going to have a baby, and I promised Nora a baby. And I guess you now know why I…with Vivien…"

For his own sake, I was slightly pleased that he _looked_ like he regretted it. Tate's eyes were as close to tears as mine were.

There was a loud call from outside. I strode to the window while keeping my distance from Tate, and saw a mountain of splintered wood and crushed stone. There was a gaping hole in the slab of concrete, and from my vantage point, I could barely make out two skeletons half buried in the dirt. Ben was waving at me to come down.

I tore my eyes from the scene back to Tate. He was still watching me with apprehension in his wet, dark eyes. He was still expecting me to leave. Before I climbed down, I turned to him.

"I don't hate you, Tate." I said. Tate looked at me, his eyes a tad brighter. "But I don't know yet if I could forgive you." Well, that flushed the spark in his eyes right out. "But give me space; we'll see where this comes to."

Tate nodded, looking immensely relieved and grateful. "Thank you, Tay. I promise you, you won't regret it."

I shook my head before disappearing down the hatch. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Tate." And with that, I left Tate, with a stricken expression on his face and another knife in my heart.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, world! I'm sorry for not updating as much as I usually do lately, but right now life has been very busy. That and a small dose of writer's block kept me away from my computer. But after rewatching season one of American Horror Story, my inspiration came flooding back and here I am. I promise to try and continue to be on top of things from now on. :) So until next chapter, see you when I see you. **


	15. 15: Watery Graves

I stood, circled around the two skeletons with everyone else. Moira had tears of joy streaming down her face, and even Hayden had hope in her face. Tate stood on the porch; he had followed me downstairs and now was keeping his distance, like we agreed. I could tell he was fighting curiosity as he desperately wanted to come closer and investigate. But his willpower was surprising me.

"Next problem," Chad said breathlessly. Sweat glistened on his forehead; along with Ben and Patrick's. Apparently ghosts _could _break a sweat. "How do we get these bodies off the properties?"

Dammit. That was an excellent problem. No one could leave the property; no one except me…

Several ghosts caught on and turned to look at me. I felt my face flush brightly under the late winter sun.

"Where do you think I should take them?" I asked. Ben glanced at me sharply.

"What? You can't move these bodies." Ben said. His voice held authority in it, and I felt like I was about to get scolded like a child who got their hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Then who else will?" Hayden asked. She asked this with her voice dripping with sarcasm. Patrick nodded from beside her.

"She's right; Tay here is the only one who can leave the house."

"That's still not a reason to send her out into the fray!" Vivien said. She passed Jeffrey to Lorraine, who started herding Bryan, Troy, and her own daughters back into the basement. "If Tay is caught moving these bodies, she could be arrested and charged with _murder_. Doesn't matter how old they are."

"Isn't someone who can help?" I asked. I felt like I should get a say in what I did. I found it nice that Ben and Vivien wanted to parent me, but I was still able to do things on my own.

"There once was someone who would," Hayden said, frustration radiating off her body. "But somebody guilt-tripped him into going to prison for a crime he didn't commit."

"Larry deserved what he got," I jumped at the sound of Tate's voice from my shoulder. He must've noticed my alarm because he scooted away from me and to the other side of the circle. "After causing Lorraine to kill herself and the girls, and killing Beau, he got everything he deserved."

The same Larry who killed Beau? I rolled my eyes; it seemed every single person in the house was connected unexpectedly to someone else. This place was going to drive me insane, if the occupants didn't do that first.

"Well, I can do it." I said determinedly. "I might as well get it done now; any suggestions where I can dump them without anyone noticing?"

No one said anything for a moment. Ben and Vivien looked outraged that they couldn't stop me from doing this. But then Patrick stepped forward.

"I think I know a good place,"

* * *

I drove Paul's nineteen ninety-nine pickup truck to a deserted part of L.A. that I'm sure hasn't been inhabited by anyone for over a year now. Well, no one _living_ that is. I spotted a spirit of a tall balding man in a thick coat with a bullet wound right between his eyes. He looked at me with surprise in his dull eyes as I stared right back.

Paul had been surprised when I appeared on his doorstep three streets over from the Murder House. I hadn't wasted any time asking for his truck for an hour or two. Paul had just shook his head and said he knew something like this would happen when he told me where he lived at school. But he had handed me the keys to his truck anyway.

Paul's truck was a clunky orange trunk that had an overwhelming aroma of cabbages. But it was the only transportation I had for Moira and Hayden's bodies. I had driven the truck back to the house and Ben had loaded Moira's body while Chad had loaded Hayden's body. Patrick had given me very specific details to the gay club where he had once frequently visited. Upon hearing where his ex-lover was leading me, Chad pursed his lips and glared at Patrick with a mix of anger and past longing.

The club was beside a stinky old river. Patrick told me that last year for Halloween he had journeyed to this club but discovered it abandoned. The club went by the name of The Lucky One.

It wasn't all that hard to find The Lucky One; the windows were tinted so dark you couldn't see anything inside and the letters for its name was nothing but faded and chipped yellow paint. I parked in the alley beside the building to find myself almost driving off a cliff.

What Patrick had forgotten to mention was that The Lucky One was perched on the head of steep cliff. The river below was a dark and churning force of nature that looked like it wanted nothing more than to kick my ass.

I groaned. "Patrick, you idiot." So much for the river being nearby; more like right underneath the club. I opened my door and started to untangle the two skeletons from their cocoon. Ben had taken care to wrap the bodies up before handing them over to me. I tugged at the closest one and started to pull it out of the bed of the truck.

Carrying the body was tedious work. I had to keep the bones from falling out of the tarp. I had just passed the hood when I nearly dropped it all over the place.

"What are you doing?"

I spun around to see the ghost from earlier staring at me with confusion in his eyes. His dull gray eyes flitted from the tarp in my arms to the one still in the bed. "Did you kill someone?" His voice wasn't angry, or even confused. He was just curious.

"No! And who's asking?" I asked. He blinked.

"I don't really remember my name. No one has said it to me in…ten years, I think. I really don't know. Time doesn't exist when you're dead."

He said this like he had meant to shock me, but when I didn't react, he gaped at me. "Aren't you afraid?"

I shook my head. "I think I've met far scarier ghosts than you."

The man didn't say anything at first, but then he shrugged. "A girl who can see ghosts: now I've seen everything on this street. But in all seriousness, I don't remember my name. That's what you get for having no one."

For a moment my heart ached for him. What would all the spirits had ended up alone, and forever wandered around, lost in their own minds, to the point where they eventually forget their own names? For the second time since I've lived in Murder House, I felt that when you look at death this way, it was far crueler than life itself.

"But what are you doing with those bodies?" The Man asked. I decided to tell him the truth.

"There are some ghosts in my house whose bodies were still on property. I want to help them move on. But the bodies had to leave before I could."

The Man nodded, understanding. "They must be some pretty close spirits for you to risk your neck for them."

"The truth is, they've become like family." I said. I hadn't given it much thought before, but now that I admitted it, that is exactly what every spirit in my house felt like now.

He smiled. "I wish I had someone like you sooner. Hey, let me help you here." He rushed over to the second body before I could object and we headed for the cliff.

The Man made sure that the tarps were properly secure before chucking his body over the edge. I watched as the sack of bones tumbled in the wind for a total ten seconds before hitting the water. The Man lifted his arms for the body that was still in my hands. I handed it silently to him, and he repeated his act. The body hit churning river with a splash. I could still see the tarps for a little while, before they sunk down into the depths.

An offer popped into my head just then. Without The Man's help, it would've taken longer to get rid of the bodies. I turned to him. "I'm going to get them out of my house. After I figure that out, do you want me to come back here and free you too?"

I expected The Man to start thanking me right there and shout to the heavens "Yes!" But instead he shook his head sadly.

"I was murdered here ten years ago. My body is hidden in the walls of one of these abandoned buildings. It would just be a waste of your time to knock down all these walls searching for dust. No, I'll stay here; besides, after what I did when I was alive, I don't think the afterlife would suit me well."

I wondered what he did to make him rather stay here than move on. It must've been something bad. It made me think about what fate awaited Tate when I got him away from the house.

"Thank you, though," The Man said kindly. "And I promise I won't rat you out for the bones."

I laughed slightly. "Thank you. Well, I got to be leaving now. But I'll have to come back to visit some time."

"I'd like that," The Man said. He waved goodbye as I backed up and drove away. It was time for me to hunt down the nearest gas station, and time to get Moira and Hayden's watery graves off my mind.


	16. 16: Over My Head

I was exempt from my classes for the rest of the semester. Despite everything that happened, I had somehow managed my straight-A average and was able to be excused from school for the next two weeks before Christmas break. These two weeks are usually the time spent reviewing for exams and then taking them.

For this was the reason I was now pouring over a selection of books from the forgotten corner of the Jennings family library. There were some really messed up ones, like the thick leather bound history-like book that was talking about some mental institution on the east coast.

Tate was with me, almost finished with the Harry Potter series. I had only allowed him in here because he was starting to make me feel depressed with his sad and miserable demeanor. But we weren't alone; Hayden was hovering, convinced I wouldn't be able to find a proper remedy without her supervision.

"Have you guys ever heard of Briarcliff Manor?" I asked, reading the name carefully. Tate glanced up from Harry's shenanigans and Hayden whipped around to glare at me suspiciously.

"Why? Do you think it'll help us with getting us out of here?" Hayden asked sharply. I shook my head.

"No; just look at some of the cases. The place is a nut-house."

Tate took the book from my hands and pressed his nose into it. Soon his eyes were as troubled as mine. "Well damn; what books does your dad collect exactly?"

"Apparently some demented ones," I said, taking the Briarcliff book back from him. "It says here the Briarcliff Manor was purchased by the Catholic Church in nineteen sixty-two and was turned from a tuberculosis ward into a sanitarium." The book also included a picture that had been taken of the manor in nineteen ninety-nine. It looked like it would've been a lovely place, if only thousands of lives hadn't been lost inside those walls. Windows were boarded up and thick tendrils of ivy showed decay of the manor.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your little bonding moment right now but if this creepy loony bin isn't going to help us get out of this damned house, then it means nothing to us." Hayden said starkly. I rolled my eyes and shut the Briarcliff book.

Tate scooted back into his armchair and reopened the sixth Harry Potter book. I found myself watching him through my eyelashes. I wanted nothing more than to have the steady, calm and relaxed relationship we had before. But that wasn't possible at the moment. And a corner of my mind told me it would never be possible.

Loud and rude voices were flying down the halls to my ears. I frowned and closed the library door, desperately attempting to keep Joan and Constance's conversation away. Out of all the people to be home alone with, it just _had _to be Joan and our pyscho neighbor. Tess and Hannah couldn't exempt from their exams due to absences and grades, respectively. Dad was at work, which left Joan nothing to do all day except annoy me with her gaudy talk about how fabulous her life used to be.

The Guide was not being much of a help anyway, though. There was no straightforward way of telling you how to free ghosts trapped in a house. I discovered a torn page from the chapter that would explain how, but other than that, nothing.

"I give up," I said, marking my spot in the Guide. "I can't concentrate here. I'm going into town to finish this." I threw my backpack on and headed for the door.

Hayden jumped in front of it. "Hold on; how do we know you won't run off with that book?"

"Are you nuts? Why would I go this far to abandon you all? Now if you'll excuse me..." I snapped and shouldered my way past her. Tate watched me leave from his armchair.

Constance's grandson (I still cringed at that fact) was standing in the foyer. I think his name was Michael. Either way, he was standing there, staring at the ceiling with a faraway look in his icy blue eyes. I was making my way past him when out of nowhere an icy and detached voice said softly: "You're in way over your head."

I spun around to see that Michael Langdon had turned to face me directly. His icy blue eyes showed wisdom far beyond his year and gleamed with malice at the same time. If I had thought being stared at by Tate was unnerving, this was terrifying.

"What you're planning will never work," Michael said. The sound of his voice sent shudders up and down my spine. "The house will stop you if my grandmother doesn't do so first."

Was this kid even nine years old? Because the way he was talking made him seem more like one of those creepy old men from horror films. Slowly, a detached and evil smile spread across Michael's little child-like face.

"I hope you die in here."

That was it. I turned the other way into the kitchen, where Joan and Constance were. Their company was far better than that little devil-child's.

"Taylor, what are you doing home from school?" Joan asked. She looked suspicious and Constance looked bitter.

"I was exempt for the next two weeks." I said, not really in the mood to pick a fight with her. Joan didn't notice and stood up to go "use the little ladies room". That left just me and Constance.

"I know what you're doing, Jennings." Constance said darkly. I put on my most innocent face I could muster.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't you dare try and pull the wool over my eyes, you little brat. Travis saw me the other day and told me everything about how you're going to help everyone in that house get out."

Dammit, Travis! I was going to have to have a talk with him about talking to our neighbors. I hardened my face. "Why should I stop? These poor souls have been trapped here long enough. They deserve to move on."

Constance stood and towered over me, thanks to her six-inch heels. "My family is in this house. If you get rid of them, you get rid of the last thing that keeps me attached to this green earth. And you will _not _separate me from them!"

So that's why Constance wanted this house left alone; because Beau and Tate were still here. "In case you haven't noticed, _Constance_, you're so-called family hates you. They want out of here more than anything."

Constance shook her head. "That's where you're wrong. Beauregard doesn't know what he wants; that's the gift of his predicament, he never knows what's best for him."

"And being chained in the basement? Is that what's best for him?" I snarled, angry with Constance for chaining her own son into hiding like some kind of animal.

"It was and it still is!" Constance almost shouted, but she remembered to keep her voice down. "You wouldn't understand; you never will unless you have children. As for Tate, he's convinced that this place is the better place. First when Violet Harmon came, and again now that you've showed up. Do you really want to damn him into hell? Because I think you care too much about my son to curse him to an eternity of endless pain and suffering."

I didn't answer. She was right; I didn't want Tate to be damned for eternity, but he couldn't stay here. That much I was certain of.

"I have to go," I said curtly. "I have to go to the library to try and find a way to free your _family."_

I slammed the door in Constance's face.

* * *

The library, to me, was always an awesome place to escape your world and enter one of calming tranquility. But now, nothing could distract me from the raging war taking place in my mind. I had no idea why I had thought this place would be able to help me. If anything, this silence only made everything in my head clearer.

Was I really willing to send Tate to hell just so I could have my house back? I said that I was helping these people move on, but I realized some of them were killers and would surely have to burn in hell for what they did. Yes there were several victims of the house, but there were also those who needed to burn. My emotions were just making all this even harder.

Opening the Guide would help, I thought, it should. I flipped to the place where a page had been torn out. Who would do this? What was is this book that was so bad someone felt the need to hide it?

"What did you do to that book?" The librarian asked me shrilly. I glanced at him but didn't give him much of a second thought.

"I didn't do anything. This book is from my house and I found it like this."

"Thank goodness," The librarian sighed. "We have a book just like that one."

My head shot up and I glanced at him. The librarian had thin iron gray hair and wrinkles all over his face and a kind smile. He was in a wheelchair.

"You're that teacher," I sputtered. "From the—the—"

I was silenced by the librarian's easy smile fading away into a disgusted frown. "Ah, so you're another one? We get a few of you every year. What are you, a freshman? Transfer student?"

"I'm new here," I said dumbly. This man was the teacher who was shot in Tate's rampage. Violet had once told me that if he was shot an inch lower, he could've stopped Tate. If the bullet was an inch higher, it would've hit his heart and killed him. Sometimes, shit happens.

"I'm sorry," I said hurriedly. "I didn't mean any disrespect. But if you say you have an extra copy of this book, do you think you could show me? I kind of need to finish it really bad. Please?"

The librarian stared at me with an eyebrow raised. But eventually he sighed. "Fine, but stop staring. It irritates me enough." I nodded and followed him through the aisles where students must've hid when Tate tore through here.

He led me to the dark corner of the library and left me there to continue navigating for the Guide. I scoured the shelves for it. Then I found an ancient copy of it. The cover smelled of rotten leather and it felt brittle, like it was about to crumble in my hands if I wasn't careful. It was the best feeling I had ever felt.

I took the prehistoric copy of the Guide back to my seat and flipped through the pages to where I had marked it in my own copy. Ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, _here it is_! I read through the page carefully and felt my face fall. I desperately read through the page five times over, wishing that it didn't just say what it just said. But there was no magic change; no rainbow over the rain cloud came out for me.

Oh, shit.


	17. 17: Seven Devils

"There is no way I'm letting you do this, Tay." Ben said firmly. A few ghosts nodded their agreement. I was faintly surprised to see even Chad giving a stiff nod to agree.

"And what are we supposed to do then Ben?" Hayden asked harshly. She was one of the few who remained indifferent to Ben's protesting. "Who else would take a bullet like this for us? I assure you, no one else will!"

"I'm not going to allow Tay to kill herself because of us!" Ben screamed at his former mistress. Hayden flinched but didn't stand down. "I don't care if it means getting out of here; I'm not letting her do this for our sake!"

The book had said blood payment was what the house needed if it would let everyone move on. An eye for an eye, Ben had called it. I would have to draw a salt circle around the property, set the house aflame, gather all the spirits, and then slash my wrist to make my own blood fall on to the property. But Ben Harmon had drawn the line there.

"Ben, you know you want to get out." I said calmly. "If I have to die for you then," I paused, not believing what I was even saying. "So be it."

"See, she's happy with the decision. I say we do it now!" Hayden screeched. I got my first taste at how desperate Hayden was to get out of this house.

"She's still not going to suffer what we all went through to get out of here," Tate snarled from Nora Montgomery's side. The confrontation with Nora had been stunning. I had come home to witness Chad pinning Nora against the wall of the living room while Patrick held a fuming Tate down. Charles Montgomery had stared, dumbstruck at the scene, confused at what he was supposed to do for his ungrateful wife.

Now we were all back in the basement, everyone keeping their distance from Nora and Tate, who hovered over his mother figure like a guard dog.

"Maybe I don't have to die," I offered weakly. "Maybe the blood payment is just a little, not enough to kill me." I trailed off, not believing a word. No one else did anyway.

"You don't believe that, Tay," Vivien said. She shifted baby Jeffrey in her arms. "And don't suffer this house for us. There has to be another way…"

"There isn't, you stupid bitch!" Hayden screamed. Her green eyes were frantic. "Unless Jennings over there can stand up and do what's right, we won't ever leave this house!"

"Do what's right?" Moira asked. "You mean do what you think is right. I refuse to see someone else fall because of this damned house."

This issued a lot of screaming. Ben, Vivien, and Moira argued with Hayden and two others ghosts named Fiona and Dallas over whether or not I should kill myself. I tried, along with several others, to calm them down, but nothing worked. I threw my hands up with anger and stalked up the stairs and into my room.

I was in too deep. No matter what the outcome was, I couldn't see me still living. I would have to go down with this house it would seem.

* * *

I was standing in a green field with a few scattered wildflowers here and there. The sun was shining down warmly; springtime resided in the air thickly. Where was I? Last thing I remembered was laying down in my bed, growing more and more tired. Had I fallen asleep?

I decided this must be the case when a flock of magpies flew over my head and landed together a few yards away. I remembered an old nursery rhyme my grandmother had once told me concerning magpies.

_One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. Five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret to never be told. Eight bring wishing, nine bring kissing, ten, the love of own heart's missing. Eleven for health, twelve for wealth, thirteen beware it's the devil himself!_

My grandmother had lived with my family for a long time, until she eventually died when I was seven. She died on her birthday. I remember her now, her hair had once been the same chestnut color as mine, but old age and hard times turned it snow white and thin. Her eyes had been the same bright hazel that Tess had now.

My mother, Laura, had not had the best relationship with her own mother. The two seemed to merely tolerate each other at times, and there had even been times when Grandma Bender couldn't even _look _at her daughter. But even though Grandma had frightened me, she was always my favorite relative.

"Nice to see you still remember me," A familiar rough voice said from behind. I spun around to face Grandma Bender, younger than how she had been at the time she had died. Her white hair was a salt and pepper mix of chestnut, and her eyes were bright again. There weren't that many wrinkles in her face anymore. True she had been sixty-three at the time of her death, but now she actually looked sixty-three instead of the eighty-three she had appeared.

"Grandma," I whispered and I plowed into her. She grunted and patted my back awkwardly before pushing me away to look at me at arm's length.

"You look just like your mother, you do." She said quietly, almost to herself. "Except the eyes; she had…her father's eyes…" Grandma trailed off.

"Where are we?" I asked. I was trying to get us off the subject of my grandfather, who, although I never met him, you could tell by the way Grandma had spoken of him that she had loved him so. Mom had always told me that Grandpa had died before she was born. "Why are you here?"

"I honestly don't have a clue. But I can tell you that you're on a suicide mission with that damned house Arthur bought." Grandma had never liked Dad, and always called him by his first name only.

"I know what the book said. But how else am I supposed to help them get out?"

"Don't help them! Save yourself and your family, because I can guarantee you, two people will die if you stay there any moment longer."

Don't help them? After everything I'd done for them? That would be the ultimate betrayal. I told Grandma so.

She shook her head. "That loyalty is what is going to get you killed."

I wondered what she meant by that, and flashbacks of her when I was younger flew through my mind. There had been times where Grandma had thought she was somewhere else, somewhere terrible. She would cower and howl for someone to come and save her. I think they had been a nun, because Grandma had always screamed for Sister. She had once called my mother by her middle name, Grace, and was curious as to how this Grace person escaped the "Others". It was enough to make me believe that she was indeed crazy at times.

"What happened to you, Grandma?" I asked, knowing it was off-topic and that she was more likely to answer this question than any other.

Grandma nodded slightly. "You'll find out one day; there's a book in that library of yours that I wrote in. It'll explain everything." She paused, her eyes narrowing for a moment. "You should wake up now, there's something in your room that wants to kill you."

"What?" I asked shrilly. But already the warm meadow was already dissolving from my fingertips. I clutched and tried to hold on to Grandma, but she gently pried away my hands before vanishing altogether. I awoke in my bed, sweating and shivering. And staring right back at me, was that face from my nightmares.

The Rubberman was just as I remembered it; tall, lean, yet strong muscles rolled underneath all that latex. The only thing that was different was the eyes; in my nightmare they had been shiny black, now that I was awake, they were blood red…

A rubbery hand was suddenly around my throat. I sputtered and gasped as my windpipe was cut off from air. Rubberman lifted me up by the throat and pinned me against the wall. I clawed at his head, struggling to get the mask off. The red eye gleamed dangerously and Rubberman reacted by yanking me against the wall to slam me back.

I couldn't scream and there was a thick black mass started to close in around the corner of my available vision. I called weakly for the first person on my mind: "Tate!"

Rubberman threw me on the floor and I was briefly winded. Rubberman took this opportunity to slam a fist into my face. I let out a faint scream as my nose cracked loudly. "Tate!" I screamed again, much louder this time. The blood red eyes flashed with hatred and slammed another fist into my head.

"What the hell?" I heard Violet's voice shriek. Rubberman was momentarily subdued as Violet charged at him and I took this opportunity to wriggle out from under him and towards the door. Rubberman quickly got a hold of the Violet situation though, and I heard a loud snap of my friend's neck. I scrambled to my feet and bolted out the door.

Where was everybody? Surely in a house filled with ghosts, more than one would've heard me screaming. And what about Violet? She was already dead, was it possible for her to die again? My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of feet thundering after me.

Basement, I thought. I needed to get to the basement. I flew down the stairs but tripped on the bottom step. Rubberman was on top of me and trying to strangle me again. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I felt the crushing blackness threaten to overpower me again.

_"Not her!" _A scream sounded from somewhere. Rubberman vanished from me in an instant, and I recovered just in time to see Tate struggle with forcing Rubberman away from me. Tate's dark brown eyes met Rubberman's blood red eyes and there was a pause. Then Rubberman threw Tate away from himself, pointed to me, and whispered in a sickening and terribly ragged voice that I could only imagine belonged to the devil himself.

_"This is _my _house…"_

And Rubberman was gone, without a trace.


	18. 18: Sound the Bugle

"What in Christ's name did you do, Tate?" Ben Harmon screamed when Tate finished helping me get down to the basement. Charles Montgomery was now inspecting my broken nose and slight concussion. Ben had pinned Tate up against the wall and looked like he'd like nothing more than to kill him.

"Tate…didn't…do anythin'…" I mumbled with my voice thick with pain. "He w-was…trying…to…help…me…"

"Tate, where is Violet?" Vivien asked shrilly. Tate couldn't answer due to Ben's hand on his throat. So he just shook his head. This was the wrong thing to do though, because Vivien shoved Ben out of the way and began to slap and claw at any part of Tate she could get a hold of. _"Where is my daughter, you sick son of a bitch?!"_

I stood up; too fast. My head spun and Charles and Moira both leapt forward to help steady me. I shrugged them off and stepped forward to separate Vivien and Tate. "Stop it!" I ordered firmly. Vivien hesitated before stepping back. Tate rested a hand on my shoulder; I think to help me more than himself. "Tate didn't lay a finger on Violet. She's upstairs in my room, where that thing snapped her neck."

"Are you guys talking about me?" Violet asked from the staircase. Vivien let out a highly relived shout and crashed into her daughter. Violet looked startled and patted Vivien's back awkwardly. Ben glanced at Tate, as if he was thinking about apologizing, but he decided against it and sped towards Violet.

"I think the question still stands," Chad said from a dark corner. Hayden stood close beside him. "That if Norman Bates Jr. over there isn't this, 'Rubberman' you called him, Tay? Then who is?"

No one answered. It seemed that everyone here knew Tate had donned the Rubberman suit a few times over the years (a fact that made my stomach twist itself into painful knots). But since Tate was the one to save me from Rubberman, everyone was at a dead end when it came to figuring out my masked attacker.

"What exactly did he say to you, Tay?" Ben asked, taking the role of leadership again. I repeated what the creature had told me right before disappearing. Everyone was silent again.

"May I say something?" A quiet voice from the back asked. The crowd of ghosts parted to reveal Lorraine. Her sprigs of crisped hair were disheveled from taking a turn with the ghost children. And she looked very shy and nervous to be speaking up.

"Of course, Lorraine," Moira said impatiently. Lorraine ducked her head and spoke very gently.

"If this thing said that the house was its, do you think it's possible that it was the house _itself_ trying to stop Tay?"

Hayden snorted with cruel laughter. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If the house was so powerful and could turn into a monster, why hasn't it before?"

"Because no one has ever threatened it like this before…" Ben muttered. Then he spun around to where I still stood close by Tate. "Do you still have that book?" I nodded and Ben bolted up the stairs.

"I mean its ridicules, right?" Hayden said, sounding very uncertain now. Lorraine took this opportunity to creep away from the crowd and back into the room with the children. Ben came back, with the black book clutched in his hands.

Ben started flipping through pages until he shouted. "Here's something!" He handed the book to me and I began to read out loud.

_"Occasionally, when a house is very old and very powerful, and when it feels threatened, a house can take the shape of an inhabitant of the house and lash out. When a house does this, it normally takes the form of what it thinks will frightened its victim the most. Of course, this is extremely rare." _And the rest was a warning about making sure you know who you're sharing a house with.

"So the house knew that fifty shades suit scared Jennings?" Hayden asked gruffly. "And how exactly did it figure this out?"

"I had a nightmare about it," I said, remembering the realistic nightmare from so long ago. "Remember Tate, I told you about it?"

Tate nodded. "Yeah I remember," He slid a hand along my lower back, sending a series of shivers down my spine.

"Then the house itself it declaring war," Moira stated gravely. As if to confirm her, a blast of thunder shook the entire house. I frowned and headed upstairs, with a horde of spirits behind me. Even with the foyer lights on, the house was unnaturally dark. Violet broke ahead of the pack and opened the front door to investigate. She paused before turning back to the rest of us with a nervous expression on her face.

I stood on my porch and took in the rising storm. Even though it was almost midnight, you could still see individual storm clouds swirling around in the angry sky. A gust of wind almost knocked me off my feet and I actually had to hold on to the railing.

Dry lightning cracked across the sky. It illuminated the neighborhood, revealing a familiar figure standing just outside the property line. Grandma was watching me with sad, hazel eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, but with the next flash of lightning, she was gone again. She had warned me that two people would die if I continued helping these people. I had accepted that I would most likely be one of them, but who was the second person?

* * *

I waited in bed until Dad, Joan, Hannah, and Tess had all left the house for the day. But the second the front door was shut, I leapt out of bed and paced around the house; knowing whatever was to be done was to be done tonight.

Everyone was trying to be very helpful, but I waved off everyone. They weren't going to die in more than a few hours.

I first gathered all the salt in my house. It was only one and a half containers, and I knew that I was in need of much more. Despite my attempts to keep everyone away from me while I gathered my thoughts, Tate wouldn't stay away. He brought me a large container of gasoline, so that the burning part would be easier. I had accepted it and shoved him away. Even though Tate was just trying to be helpful, he was making this harder.

With all the quiet time I was getting, my thoughts kept slipping back to everyone who resided in this damned house.

Ben and Vivien Harmon; almost divorced because of their broken marriage, but still loved each other very much. Their children Violet and Jeffrey; both frozen in time, would never grow up and experience life. Moira; cursed to be two separate people, one displayed who she truly was, the other the exact kind of person she hated. Chad and Patrick; proof that unrequited love was one of the worst pains a person can endure. Hayden; honestly believed that she was meant to be with Ben, but was forever cursed to watch him be happy with another woman, forever cursed to watch Vivien have something Hayden could never have. Tate; the exact image of a Byronic hero; proud, moody, with defiance on his brow and misery in his heart, yet capable of deep and strong affection.

It became too much; I needed to get out of that house. So without a word to the any of the ghosts, I walked out of front door. I was buffeted by the wind but I walked with a purpose; there seemed to be only place I could truly clear my troubled mind.

* * *

**A/N: A quick little side note, that this chapter marks the beginning of the end for "Silver Eyes". And more twists are to be expected in the next two or three chapters. Hope everyone is enjoying this story, because I've been enjoying it a lot and to see it almost at a close, it's touching. See y'all later! :)**


	19. 19: Wartorn

The beach that I had visited with Tate on Halloween was deserted. I stood there for a long time. The wave crashed into the dark rocks and the blast of the icy, salty air blew tangles into my hair. Like everything else in the world, life here went on.

The house demanded a blood payment to release the spirits of the house; that much was clear. Then it would have to burn, and the blood would need to be paid for the freedom of the trapped inhabitants. The question was how much blood did it need?

A pelican spiraling above me went into a dive towards the water. It swooped back up with a fish clamped in its beak. I snorted; life was a bitch. You were either the hunter or the hunted. Surely spending all that time with Tate would've told me that.

I sighed; Tate. Even if I managed to send him off to the next life, where would he go? Surely there wasn't a place in heaven for him; he stole away the lives of fifteen kids at Westfield, raped Vivien, and committed too many sins for me to keep track of. But no matter how much I wanted to, I would never be able to hate him. I just cared too much.

It became clear to me in that moment: no matter what Tate did, no matter how many people he's killed, hurt, or traumatized, I loved that psycho. Maybe that meant I was crazy as well, but I knew that I loved Tate. And that meant I _had _to let him move on.

What was it he said on Halloween? _You can look out at the ocean and see, if only for a few hours at least, that compared to the rest of the world, you're just a speck. Sometimes when the world gets so close that you can't breathe, you can look at there and realize that next to everyone else, your problems count for jack shit._

I had thought depressing at the time, but now it sounded like insanely wise words of advice. Compared to the rest of the world, my problems with the house didn't matter. There will always be someone else somewhere that had it a thousand times worse than you. But now I was having a hard time figuring out what could be worse that a demon possessed house that is determined to keep its inhabitants inside.

So with my mind as cold and as set as the hard, damp sand beneath my feet, I stalked off the shore and headed back to the Murder House.

* * *

I returned a few hours later with my arms carting grocery bags of salt and gasoline. No one stopped me, but Constance and Michael stared me down as I passed. To irritate them, I gave them the most innocent smile I could do. Constance stormed off, clearly frustrated. I later learned the hard way that acknowledging the Langdons was the wrong thing to do.

Hayden was waiting for me in the foyer, looking angry and, I must've been imagining it, afraid. She must've assumed I had skipped town and was abandoning them. Her assumptions didn't seem so crazy anymore.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hayden asked. I shouldered past her.

"Getting stuff we need, but nice to see you as well, mother." I snapped. Hayden looked like she wanted to kill me, but she restrained herself.

I entered the kitchen to find Ben, Vivien, Moira, and Violet looking worried. Violet's eyes widened when she saw the weapons of destruction in my arms.

"What's with the heavy artillery?" She asked, though interest sparkled in her eyes.

"We needed more salt to circle the house." I said, setting everything down on the island. "And the gasoline is to burn this place to the ground."

"This is really happening," Moira whispered. I watched her dab at her eyes, for tears were glistening there. I wondered how long she had been waiting for this to happen. I asked her. Moira shook her head and replied sadly, "Far too long,"

Hayden, Chad, and Patrick entered the kitchen. I stepped out to drag Tate in, and after gathering them all around the island, I started to lay out the battle plan. "Alright, now this entire place needs to burn in order for this to work. So everyone here needs to go around the house and spread gasoline _everywhere_; furniture, walls, floors, everything needs to be coated with gas. Violet, spread the word to everyone is here that they need to get outside at sundown, which according to my watch, is in less than an hour. Tell them that they have an hour left in this hell-hole." Violet nodded. I continued. "As for the salt, I'll handle that myself. Everybody know what they're doing?" There were a few grunts of acknowledgment. I took that for a hell yes.

I gathered my salt back up and went outside, right before Ben snatched a gas can and started sprinkling it all over the kitchen. I heard footsteps follow me out.

"What do you want, Tate?" I asked. Tate sped up.

"This," I was spun around at high speed and before I could react, Tate had crashed his lips on to mine.

It definitely not a soothing kiss, it was frantic. Tate's mouth worked against mine and his hands slid up my shirt to press my stomach and raked across my back, as if he was desperate to never let me go. I wasn't the least bit surprised when I kissed him just as hard back.

We separated a while after our make out started. I was left breathless and dizzy, and by the look on Tate's face, he was feeling the same way. We stared at each other's eyes for a moment, this time I wasn't afraid to hold his intense gaze.

"I don't want to lose you, Tay." Tate whimpered. Constance's prediction was right: Tate didn't want to leave the house now that I was there. I met his desperate gaze evenly.

"I'm sorry Tate, believe me I don't want to lose you either." I made a move to say more, but Tate covered my mouth and sped away.

"Then don't send me away," His voice was growing with desperation. "We could stay together forever, and we could be together. Please Tay…" Tate Langdon was begging.

I shook my head firmly. "And what about when I look like your grandmother? I love you, Tate, but it has to be like this."

Tate bowed his head into my shoulder. I hugged him tight, not wanting this moment to end. For deep in my heart, I knew this was the last tender moment I would ever have with the likes of Tate Langdon. I pushed him away to look up in his face.

"Let's go do the salt circle now,"

Tate, in a daze, nodded. And together, silently, we stood as close as possible while circling the property with salt.

* * *

The house reeked of gasoline. I couldn't stand in there for more than a few minutes without feeling very woozy. So I stood on the porch while the ghosts filed out, one by one.

Fiona and Dallas paused with a heated glare at me. "You better not mess this up." I assured them not to worry and made them continue on their way.

"No, they're destroying my house!" Nora Montgomery's screams could be heard all the way to where I was standing. Then Charles appeared, dragging his distraught wife along with him.

"We're going to be okay, Nora! We'll be free! If you just come out onto the lawn!" Charles said firmly with his teeth gritted. I had to admire the way Charles was handling Nora; usually Charles was not the type to be affirmative.

Violet came out next, with Beau clutching her hand and his red ball in the other. Despite the long shadows created by the rising storm, Beau flinched and tried to escape back in the house. Violet held him firm though. "It's alright Beau; look we can go play over here." She led him away to the lawn and they sat down facing each other to roll the ball between them.

Lorraine appeared, herding the children and holding Jeffrey in her arms. Bryan and Troy dashed out onto the lawn and proceeded to chase each other. Lorraine paused and turned back around to the house. "Come on out, dearie. No one will harm you." I craned my neck to see who she was talking to.

A gremlin thing stepped out into the dark light. A pointed face was trapped in a permanent sneer and its eyes were as black as ink. Lorraine saw me staring and explained, "This is Thaddeus Montgomery, and don't stare, it makes him nervous." I nodded and quickly averted my gaze.

Ben Harmon was the last to exit the house. A triumphant grin was on his face. He was pouring more gasoline onto the porch. "I'm getting it to the salt circle, so that you can just throw the match; do you have it?" I nodded and showed him a pack of matches I found earlier. Ben nodded and hesitantly added, "Thank you so much, Tay, for saving my family."

I shrugged. "It's just a house," Ben shook his head.

"No; it was much more than that." And after that he left, leaving me feel stricken.

I strode across the front lawn and stepped outside the circle. I turned back to the ghosts. "Okay, now once the house is on fire, it is crucial that no one else besides me crosses this line. Got it?" Everyone shouted.

I tore my gaze from them to the sky; even with the cloud cover, I could still make out the sun. It was barely set. Right when it set, I needed to toss this match onto the patch of gasoline Ben left for me. The sun was just a few seconds away now. I went ahead and lit a match. There were two things in my pocket; those matches, and a cutting knife to slash my arms.

"Tay," I looked to see Tate creep towards me. "Please don't send me away. We could stay together, if you just let me stay."

I thought about it. Tate and I would be happy, I was sure of it. But I would age while he would stay seventeen forever. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the sun slip down below the horizon.

I flicked my wrist and the lit match landed in the gasoline.


	20. 20: The Smoldering House

The house lit up as bright as the sun. I could feel the heat radiating from it. The ghosts on the front yard all took a step back from the leaping flames.

Despite the blaze, I felt cold.

I reached in my pocket and removed the knife I had swiped from the kitchen. I pressed the blade against my forearm, ready to slice it open. All I needed to do was drag it down the length of my arm and everyone would be free.

But I couldn't do it.

It was so easy: just drag a blade along your flesh and let the blood flow out. It was such a simple thing, yet I couldn't do it. Tears of frustration burned the back of my eyes. I couldn't do it. This was all for nothing.

_"What are you doing to our house?!"_ Joan's scream made me drop the knife. Dad and Joan were pelting up the lawn…towards the salt line.

"Don't come any closer!" I shouted over the roar of the fire. I held my hands up to keep them away. Hannah and Tess stood scared at the gates to the property.

An eardrum shattering scream sounded from inside the house. I stared at Ben, the closest ghost. "Who is still in there?"

Ben shook his head. "Nobody!" The scream sounded again.

"That sure as hell doesn't sound like nobody!" I screamed. Without thinking, I leapt over the salt circle, charged past the spirits, and crashed into the house.

It was so hot I could hardly keep my eyes open. I coughed heavily as the black smoke forced itself down my throat. Blisters formed on my skin and burst. I could hardly make out the sound of the desperate screaming over the thunderous roar.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" I screamed out. There wasn't a reply, only the shattering scream again. I covered my face as much as I could with my shirt before heading in the general direction of the screams. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

_"MY HOUSE!" _I turned around too late; the house demon slash Rubberman suit jumped out at me and dragged me down to the floor. I stared into those blood red eyes as they stared back at me with so much hatred.

"Let me go!" I pleaded vainly. Rubberman ignored my pleas and gripped my throat again, all while pushing me closer to the flames.

It was planning on burning me alive. The realization sank deep inside me and awakened something primal and destructive. I let out a scream that didn't even sound human and I punched Rubberman right across the jaw. He grunted and was momentarily subdued, and I took the opportunity to make a mad run for the front door.

But Rubberman grabbed my ankle before I could make it away safely. I turned around, trying to get rid of him again, but Rubberman pinned me under his weight. I was left to look once more into those horrible eyes.

_"My house…" _Rubberman hissed again, softly. I struggled under his weight but he held me firm. Was this really how I was going to die…?

"Get off of her!"

Rubberman was knocked off of me. The smoke was starting to make me vision very fuzzy. I saw a tall figure, a man it looked like, punch Rubberman several times before shoving him into the inferno. The man turned back to me and I saw a strong jaw, straight nose, and deep brown eyes. He leaned into me and helped me to my feet.

"You'll be fine," He muttered, almost dragging me to the door. "We'll meet some day, but not right now…"

"Who…?" I started to ask but I was racked with a terrible fit of coughing.

"Calm down; you're almost out."

I struggled out of the house, leaning heavily on this man. I was suddenly swept up and over the salt line again.

"Why didn't we just let her die in there?" I vaguely remembered Hayden's voice. "We could be out right now."

I opened my eyes as wide as I could, to see Ben, Tate, and Dad crouched over me. I sat up and glanced around; but the man who rescued me from the conflagration wasn't there.

"Where is he?" I asked. "The guy who helped me out, where is he?"

They all looked confused. "No one was with you, Tay." Ben said. Dad nodded; I noticed his face was tear-stained.

"Why so glum, Dad?" I asked weakly. Dad shuddered.

"Dr. Harmon here explained what all this was," He sounded as guilty as hell. "Tay, I'm so sorry that I never believed you about all this. If I did, maybe this never would've…" He trailed off.

"It's okay, Daddy, I'll be fine." I said gravely. It was now or never, I realized. So I stood on my shaky legs. Joan pulled Dad away by the forearm. Tess and Hannah walked up to stand beside them: they had all accepted what I planned on doing, why couldn't I?

I set the knife on my arm again. But before I did anything, I wanted to take a last look at everything: at the Harmon family, Hayden, Moira, Chad, Patrick, Tate…

I closed my eyes and carefully started to slide the blade along my arm.

A primitive scream erupted from somewhere to my left. My eyes snapped open just in time to see the nine year old boy from next door ram himself into my side. The knife cut a deep chunk out of my arm. I screamed and landed on the hard ground with a thud. Michael Langdon slapped me across the face.

"I told you, you'll die here." Michael hissed, much like a snake. I saw what he was at that moment: a demon born of both human and spirit. An abomination born of rape…

I reversed Michael so that he was thrown off of me. The knife was just a foot away. I reached for it but was dragged back by what felt like a full grown man. I glanced over my shoulder to see Michael with a twisted expression on his face; his icy blue eyes turned a deep blood red…

"Tay!" Vivien shouted. In a brief moment I knew exactly what Vivien wanted me to do. I wriggled my feet under Michael and swung them up. Michael landed somewhere just above my head…close enough for Vivien to drag him into the circle. I quickly grabbed the knife and tossed it into Vivien's outstretched hand. And with a single, decisive stroke, Vivien slit Michael's throat.

"What are you doing?" Hayden asked, sounding horrified. "That's your son, for Christ's sake!"

Vivien threw Michael's dying body back on the singed ground. "He was never my son."

As Michael's blood dripped on to the ground, the house exploded. I could faintly hear the screams of the demon that donned the S&M suit. In the top-most flames, I could see a face, a face that was twisted and distorted and rage-filled. The face was wiped away from the sky and I had a feeling whatever demon had lived in the Murder House had finally gone back to hell.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BABY?!"

My head spun around and Constance was running as fast as she could. Dad tried to step out in front of her, but the sound of a gunshot stopped him. I watched in horror as Dad crumbled to the ground.

"Dad!" Tess screamed. Constance ignored her and pointed the pistol at my forehead.

"You killed my grandson, and you'll pay for this." Constance snarled. She clicked the bullet into place.

There was a moment where time stood still. On my right, an eerie blue glow started to poke out from the spirits' chests. I could make out Nora Montgomery almost have a panic attack as her body faded away into a bluish-white orb. And at the same time, Tess ran in front of my bullet.

I screamed as my twin's body crumbled as the bullet entered her chest. Joan and Hannah screamed and sirens could be heard from a mile away. Constance backed away, horrified at what she just did. Dad stood to his feet, the bullet only entering his stomach. Constance fled.

"Tess…" I whispered and set her head on to my lap. Tess's blood seeped on to the ground. "I'm so sorry, I never meant for you to die."

"I'm fine, Tay." Tess said dreamily. "Don't waste any tears for me." Her eyes flitted away from me and stared at something in the darkness. "Tay, I can see Mom! Is this what it was like for you?"

I looked up to see what Tess was talking about. And sure enough, my mother was standing over near the salt. Her chestnut hair went to her elbows and flowed softly by some wind that wasn't even blowing. Standing near her was Grandma Bender, who was giving me a look that said "I told you so," and right beside her was the man who had saved me from the Rubberman. He stood very close to Grandma, a hand resting on her waist. Mom stood right next to him, and they had the same eyes…

"We're here to help these people move on," Grandma said in her natural rough voice. I glanced back to the ghosts of the house; more of them had turned into shapes of bluish-white energy. I watched Chad and Patrick morph into the orbs and Moira quickly followed the fate. The Harmons went next, and Tate was last.

Tate met my eyes one last time, and in them all I could see was pain, longing, and an expression I would later learn was love. I told him that I was sorry to him. Tate nodded and smiled sadly. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He looked momentarily scared, but before he could figure out why he was now mute, he had morphed into an orb.

Tears poured down my face as I stared at a collection of ghost orbs. Suddenly, they started to circle me, and I heard ghostly whispers that were a mingled combination of everyone who had been trapped in the house.

_"Thank you…"_

_"We'll watch over you…"_

_"Always…"_

The orbs started to float upwards, into the sky. Mom, Grandma, and the man who was my grandfather faded away, all with last smiles at me. And when the glowing bluish-white orbs reached fifty feet in the air, there was a flash of lightning, and the conflagration went out, Michael's body disappeared, and the orbs were gone.

I was left behind, battered and broken.


	21. Epilouge

"Oh, thank God you're here!"

This is a statement I've heard too many times over the years. I stepped into the condo and felt an immediate heavy weight slide onto my shoulders. There was definitely a ghost here.

The couple that called, two uptown kids in their early twenties, had been frightened out of their minds from a spirit in their home. But I could tell just by entering the home, this ghost was neither mean nor dangerous. It might just want to be noticed.

After all the shit I went through at the hands of ghosts, you think I would've sworn off the undead. But after going through the Murder House, I realized that I wanted to help people get through what I got through. So after high school I attended a college dedicated to paranormal studies.

Surprisingly enough, after the inferno went out, the house still stood, as if it had never been touched by the flames. All of our belongings were untouched, and everything seemed perfect.

But it lacked what had made it home. The house no longer creaked or moaned. Beau's attic was silent. And everything about the house had a lighter atmosphere to it. But it was no longer home.

Dad, Joan, and Hannah continued to live in there. As if nothing happened. As if Tess never existed. I couldn't stay there. Every corner of that house was covered with memories of them, all of them. So I packed up my things and rented an apartment a mile away from Westfield High. I had enough savings and birthday money to do so. And I didn't have to buy my own meals, not really. Hannah and Joan brought by groceries. The first time they came together, and they apologized for all the bullshit they had put me through. We had all hugged and cried over what had happened that winter night.

Constance had been arrested the murder of Tess Jennings. And on top of it, they went ahead and charged her of the murders of Hugo Langdon, her husband, and Moira O'Hara, the maid. I went to visit her once, only to tell her that she deserved to rot for all the pain she caused people.

"So, do you think you can help?" The wife asked my partner and husband of ten years, Hank Peters. Hank was tall with dark blond hair and kind blue eyes. We had met in college when I had asked for a pencil. He had retaliated by asking me out.

It had not been easy, falling for Hank. In the back of my mind, there was always Tate: the way Tate laughed, the way he had kissed that first and last time. But Hank was patient and kind, the opposite of Tate. In a strange and twisted way, he was exactly what I needed to move on.

Hank smiled at the wife. "I think we can. Tay over there is the best medium in the state of Illinois. She can snuff out your ghostie."

I rolled my eyes at him. The couple looked to me hopefully and told me that most of the paranormal activity they experienced happened in the office. They pointed the way and I walked in alone.

The image of a nursery came to mind upon entering the room, even though it was used as a home office. This must be where the ghost died.

"Come on out," I said softly. "I won't hurt you; I just want to help." There was a moment where nothing happened, but then a girl around the age of ten stepped out of the dark corner. She was dressed as if she was from the early two thousands.

"Who are you?" She asked in a soft voice.

"I'm Tay Peters," I replied. I crouched down so that we were at eye level. "What's your name?"

She paused. "Janet,"

"It's nice to meet you, Janet. Can you tell me why you're here?"

Janet suddenly looked scared. "He came in here. Mommy and Daddy were out. He _did_ things to the babysitter. Then he came after me."

"What happened then?" I asked. Janet shuddered.

"He cut me; he cut me up and hid me, in the wall I think."

I nodded; Janet was tuck in the same rut Hayden and Moira had been in. "Well listen to me, Janet, a really nice man is going to come in here and get your body out, okay?" Janet nodded.

"I miss my mommy,"

"I miss mine too, kiddo." I said sadly. I stood up to go fetch Hank.

"He still watches you, you know. They all do." Janet said all of a sudden. I stiffened, not needing an explanation as to whom exactly watched over me.

"I know they do."

I left the room and told Hank the situation. He nodded, gave me a brief kiss, and told me I could head on home. So I started heading that way; my job was done for the night. And I missed my kids.

* * *

I paid the babysitter before raiding my fridge. It looked like the babysitter had taken my advice and ordered pizza. There were leftovers so I put two slices in the microwave.

A high pitched giggle sounded above the microwave.

I spun around just in time to see two chestnut heads shrink back. "Tate and Violet Peters, why are you two still awake?"

Violet squealed and attacked me in a tight hug. Tate jumped out as well and hugged me too, sandwiching his twin between us. When they released I put my hands on my hips and gave them a mock glare. "How come you aren't asleep?"

"We couldn't sleep!" Violet said happily.

"Yeah, we're all hyper!" Tate said in a sing-song voice. "Ben's up too!"

"I tried to tell them, Mom!" My oldest, Ben, marched out from the hallway. "But they wouldn't listen!"

"Is Dotty asleep?" I asked, concerned about my nineteen month old. Ben nodded, his dark blond hair flopping. "Good, now you get to bed, all of you." Ben left immediately, but Tate and Violet were hesitant. After tucking them all back into bed, I strolled down the hall to the nursery.

Dorothy Peters was sound asleep, and she was the image of her great-grandmother, her namesake. It took a few hours, but I had found the book Grandma Bender had said she had written in. And now I knew what hell was, because she had lived through it. And after reading it, I realized my problems counted for jack shit. That small journal stood on my nightstand, always.

I'll never forget Tate Langdon, or the Harmons, or Moira O'Hara, or Chad Warwick and Patrick, or Hayden McClain, or Dorothy Bender, or Tess Jennings. I'll carry all of them with me forever. I couldn't see them anymore, but they would always be with me.

Always.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my goodness, Silver Eyes is officially complete! *throws cheetos everywhere* This has been a very different experience from my Harry Potter fanfics, for this one caused more stress, tears, and moments where I wanted to rip my hair out. But overall, I've enjoyed this ride very much.**

**I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, alerted (?), and read this story. It really means a lot when I come online to see that someone reviewed or more people have seen it. A special thank you to zomgitskayaaa, creativewriter222, & KatieMarrie for reviewing multiple times, it makes my day when I see that y'all have given me your opinion. :)**

**In case you are wondering, I have decided to write at least one fanfic for each season of American Horror Story. I'm already sorting out one that will tell the story of Tay's grandmother, Dorothy Bender. If you haven't guessed already (I was dropping several hints around the end), Bender lived in Briarcliff for some years, and the next story will be about her time there. I'm not sure when it'll be up, but keep on the lookout. ;)**

**I actually have a soundtrack that I listened to nonstop while writing this. I'll post it on my profile, if you want to listen to it. And you'll be able to tell which song I listened to most on certain chapters, because they'll have the same name as the chapter name.**

**Once again, thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. I hope you all have enjoyed it as much as I have.**

**-Katie**


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